The Distant Blade
The hall smelled of roasted pork and old stone, a pungent, cloying mixture that clung to the back of the throat and settled in the lungs like a fine, grey dust, and in the center of the vast, circular chamber, surrounded by the chittering and laughter of the Guild’s senior masters who held their cups of mead aloft like small, golden shields against the encroaching dark of the night, stood...
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