The Distant Whispers
The feast was a riot of smoke and spice. The Great Hall of the Iron Watch stood in the shadow of the castle’s highest tower. It was a place of stone and silence, broken only by the clatter of steel on stone. Men in grey tunics sat at long tables. They ate boiled roots and dark bread. They drank ale that tasted of hops and earth. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and old wool. Elias sat...
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