The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-19 10:32:22 -

The hall was thick with the scent of roasted pork and beeswax, a heavy, sweet air that seemed to settle in the lungs like silt in a river. It was the feast of St. Edmund, the kind of gathering where the local lord, Lord Ashworth, would display his wealth to the village and the surrounding hamlets, and where the air was always charged with a mixture of gratitude and fear. I sat at the lower...

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