The Wistful Cipher

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2026-08-21 20:31:37 -

The feast was a riot of roasted goose, dark ale, and honeyed cakes that smelled of burnt sugar and smoke, a sensory assault that did little to warm the cold stone of the keep. Sir Aldous sat at the head of the long oak table, his hands resting on the polished wood, fingers stained with the faint, indelible residue of ink. He was a man carved from the same granite as the fortress walls, stoic...

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