The Distant Temple
The feast was held in the Great Hall, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasting goose and stale wine. You stood at the periphery, a shadow cast by the candlelight, your hands clasped before you in a gesture that was not quite prayer and not quite submission. The hall was a beast of oak and stone, its ribs creaking under the weight of generations of noise. Around you, the monks and the...
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