The Distant Legend
The hall smelled of roasting lamb and old wine, the air thick with the smoke of a hundred candles and the heavier, cloying scent of too many bodies pressed too close together. You stood at the edge of the table, your uniform immaculate, the brass buttons catching the flickering light like cold, unblinking eyes. Around you, the officers of the garrison laughed, their voices rising in a cacophony...
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