The Faded Paradox
The feast was a riot of noise and grease, a chaotic sprawl of tallow candles and roasted pork that filled the great hall with a smell so thick it seemed to coat the back of the throat in a layer of sticky, suffocating warmth, and we sat there, my wife Eleanor and I, amidst the swirling mists of the smoke and the clatter of silverware against pewter, listening to the other soldiers roar their...
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