The Golden Suspect
The feast is held in the undercroft, a space carved from the living rock of the monastery, where the air tastes of damp limestone and stale incense. You are seated at a long table of rough-hewn oak, your hands wrapped around a clay bowl of thick, dark stew, the heat seeping into your palms as a quiet, desperate comfort. Around you, the monks and the local lords sit in silence, their faces...
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