The Golden Cellar
You stand at the center of the great hall, the air thick with the scent of roasting boar and the heavy, cloying perfume of the myrrh that the bards insist burns away the sins of the past, but you know only too well that it merely masks the rot that festers beneath the polished floorboards. The feast is in full swing, a cacophony of clattering silver, raised voices, and the rough, guttural...
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