The Faded Ruin
The feast began in the square of the Ashen Keep, under a sky bruised purple by the setting sun. It was a celebration of the Quota, the annual ritual where the State acknowledged the labor of its citizens. Long tables stretched across the cobblestones, laden with salted pork, dark bread, and a sharp, local wine that stained the lips. The air smelled of woodsmoke and wet wool. Edward Ashworth sat...
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