The Distant Clue

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2026-08-19 19:59:03 -

The Distant Clue

The feast of the Assumption was a cacophony of gold and grease, a suffocating celebration that smelled of roasting swan and unwashed bodies. I sat at the lower end of the long oak table, my knees pressed against the splintered wood, my eyes fixed on the silver goblet that passed from hand to hand, never reaching mine. Around me, the merchants of St. Aldhelm’s Market laughed with the boisterous,...

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