The Pale Exile
The cellar smelled of yeast and old iron. Silas stood in the center of the stone floor. He was small. His hands were big. They were stained yellow from the hops. The table groaned. It was heavy oak. It held the feast. There were loaves. They were dark. They were dense. There was cheese. It was sharp. It was crumbled into a bowl. There was wine. It was red. It was thick. Silas looked at the...
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