The Golden Scar

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2026-08-19 20:35:31 -

The Golden Scar

The banquet hall smells of iron and burnt sugar. You sit at the long oak table, your hands folded in your lap, knuckles white. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of roasted boar and the metallic tang of blood that has dried on the floorboards. Around you, the men of the Ninth Legion feast. They are loud. They are fat. They laugh with mouths full of meat. You do not eat. You watch. Your name...

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