The Distant Temple
The banquet hall of the Northern Garrison was a cavern of polished oak and waxed leather, where the air hung heavy with the scent of roasted venison, stale ale, and the metallic tang of too much iron. It was a night of feasting, a ritual of camaraderie that I had endured for twenty years, yet tonight the noise of the fiddles and the clatter of pewter plates seemed to recede into a distant,...
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