The Distant Crown

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2026-08-17 23:32:36 -

The Distant Crown

The firelight eats the shadows. You sit at the long table. The wood is old. It smells of tallow and sweat. Around you, the men are loud. They laugh. They drink. The ale is dark. It smells of hops and yeast. You are small in the chair. Your hands are still. They rest on the oak. The grain is rough. It bites your skin. You do not flinch. You have learned to stillness. Stillness is your armor....

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