The Distant Temple

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2026-08-19 17:17:15 -

The frost had not yet melted from the iron railings of the Hall, and the air inside smelled of wet wool and the metallic tang of old blood. I stood before the High Steward, my boots scuffed by the mud of the lower precincts, and waited for him to finish his sentence. He was a small man, precise as a surgeon’s scalpel, with eyes that seemed to calculate the weight of my silence. I am a man of...

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