The Wistful Cipher

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2026-08-19 00:12:38 -

The feast had lasted three days, the tables groaning under the weight of roasted boar and honeyed pears, the air thick with the scent of beeswax candles and old sweat. I sat at the edge of the long oak bench, my left hand resting on the table, the fingers pale and still against the rough grain. It was a hand that had held a sword for forty years, a hand that had severed throats and pulled...

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