The Wistful Atlas

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 10:16:01 -

The Wistful Atlas

The table was long. It stretched down the center of the hall, heavy with silver and glass. The air was thick. It smelled of roast goose and old stone. I sat at the end. My uniform was pressed. The brass buttons caught the candlelight. They looked like eyes. I watched the man at the head. Lord Alistair. He was eating. He ate with a violence that seemed at odds with his soft voice. He chewed. He...

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