The Golden Scar

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2026-08-20 01:38:34 -

The Golden Scar

The banquet hall of the Citadel of Ashworth was not a room but a lung, breathing in the smoke of ten thousand candles and exhaling the heavy, cloying scent of roasted pheasant and spiced wine, a suffocating embrace that pressed against your temples as you stood at the edge of the dais, watching the Great Warden, your superior, raise his goblet in a toast to the eternal vigilance of the state,...

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