The Wistful Silence
The great hall of the Citadel of Saint Jude is not a room but a mouth, a vast, stone-throated cavern that swallows the light of the afternoon and excretes it back as a pale, sickly grey mist that settles on the shoulders of the men in their dark, waxed leather armor and the polished steel of their breastplates, and you stand in the center of it, your hands trembling not from the cold that seeps...
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