The Pale Tower

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 19:55:03 -

The Pale Tower

The hall is a mouth, wide and dark, smelling of roasted pork and stale wine. You are standing on the cold flagstones, your hands slick with grease, your mind a whirlwind of calculations that do not add up. The feast is in full swing, the trestle tables groaning under the weight of silver and bone. You are the master of this house, the merchant of spices and silks, but tonight you feel like a...

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