The Golden Song

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2026-08-20 03:53:40 -

The Golden Song

The hall smells of roasting pork and wet wool. You are standing in the center of the Great Hall, the stone floor cold through the soles of your boots, your hands trembling not from the cold but from the sheer, suffocating weight of the silence. It is a silence that has teeth. Around you, the lords and ladies sit in high-backed chairs carved from oak, their faces masks of polite indifference....

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