The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-20 18:32:52 -

The wine was thick and dark, pooling in the clay cups like dried blood, and the air in the Great Hall hung heavy with the scent of roasting lamb, wet wool, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear that no amount of spiced ale could quite mask. Aldric sat at the head of the long oak table, his hands wrapped around his cup, feeling the heat seep into his palms, yet he felt a coldness in his chest...

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