The Faded Chronicle
The banquet hall smelled of roasted goose and stale beer. You sat in the corner, your hands wrapped around a mug of watered-down ale. The room was bright. The candles burned low. The wealthy of Ironbridge gathered here. They wore silk and velvet. They laughed too loud. You watched them. You did not eat. Your stomach was empty. It had been empty for days. On the table before you lay a coat. It...
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