The Distant Cartograph
The feast in the Great Hall of Dunmore Castle was not a celebration of joy, but a ritual of endurance, where the air grew thick with the scent of roasted venison and the heavy, damp wool of the gathered lords, and old Master Aldous stood by the hearth, his hands trembling not from the cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the years that had settled into the marrow of his bones like silt...
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