The Pale Protocol

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2026-08-18 23:11:07 -

The Pale Protocol

The feast was a riot of color and scent, a deliberate obscenity of abundance. In the Great Hall of the Alabaster House, the air hung thick with the perfume of roasted swans and spiced wine. Candles flickered against the vaulted stone ceiling, casting long, trembling shadows that danced like restless spirits. Sir Julian sat at the head of the table, his face pale, his eyes fixed on a point...

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