The Pale Bridge
The feast was held in the great hall of the manor, a structure of stone and timber that seemed to grow out of the earth itself, rooted in the soil of a time before memory. You sit at the long table, your hands folded in your lap, watching the candlelight tremble against the vaulted ceiling. The air is thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and the damp, earthy smell of the rain...
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