The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-20 08:57:15 -

The feast had gone on for three days in the stone hall of the manor, a sprawling, low-ceilinged expanse of oak and thatch where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted boar, stale ale, and the heavy, cloying sweetness of beeswax candles that seemed to melt faster than the tallow but burned with a much colder, more persistent light. Sir Thomas Bradshaw stood apart from the throng of lords...

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