The Golden Visit
The banquet hall was a cavern of red velvet and candlelight, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted boar and old wine. You sat at the high table, a figure of silence amidst the roar of the court. They called you the Inquisitor of Threads, a title that carried the weight of iron and the whisper of silk. Your task was not to judge the men who feasted, but to inspect the garments they...
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