The Distant Summer
The feast is loud. It is a roar. You sit at the long oak table. The wood is old. It is stained with wine. It is stained with blood. You wear the armor. It is heavy. It is cold. The iron bites into your shoulders. You do not move. You do not breathe. They eat. They drink. They laugh. "You look tired, Thomas." The voice comes from the end. It is the Captain. He holds a cup of ale. The foam is...
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