The Faded Frequency
The feast was a riot of roasted boar and spiced wine, the air thick with the scent of burning tallow and the heavy, cloying perfume of crushed rose petals. You sat at the far end of the long oak table, your hands resting on the polished wood, feeling the vibration of the lute playing in the corner. It was a sound that seemed to come from a different age, a time when the world was smaller and...
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