The Pale Circus
The feast was loud. It was a roar of iron and wine. The hall smelled of roasting pork and wet wool. Torches burned low in the sconces. Shadows danced on the stone walls. They moved like ghosts. They moved like men. Sir Aldric stood by the hearth. He held a cup of mead. He did not drink. He watched the flames. The fire was orange. The fire was hungry. It ate the wood. It ate the silence. Aldric...
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