The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-18 14:01:54 -

The Wistful Saga

The feast was a failure. It was a failure of light. The tallow candles guttered in the draft of the high hall, casting long, trembling shadows against the oak beams. We sat at the long table, the merchants and the smiths, the weavers and the men who moved the great stones of the quarry. We ate cold meat. We drank thin wine. The air smelled of wet wool and old smoke. I sat at the far end, near...

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