The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-18 00:25:47 -

The iron was cold. I wiped the blade on my tunic. The steel was still. It did not sing. It did not hum. It was dead metal. The village square was empty. The fog rolled in from the river. It smelled of rot and damp wool. I stood by the well. My name is Aldous. I am the Warden. The people do not say it. They look away. They cross themselves. They whisper of the curse. They speak of the blood on...

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