The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-20 11:46:17 -

The hall smelled of roasted pork and stale woodsmoke. It was a smell that coated the back of the throat, thick and cloying, demanding attention. I sat at the far end of the long oak table, my hands folded in my lap. They were steady. I had trained them to be steady. Across from me, the Lord of the Keep raised his goblet. The liquid inside was dark, almost black. It swirled sluggishly, defying...

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