The Distant Affair
You stand in the center of the Great Hall, the air thick with the scent of roasted boar and the damp, heavy smell of wet wool, your fingers stained a deep, bruised purple from the lavender distillation that has marked your life’s work. You are not merely a merchant; you are a transmuter, a man who believes that the essence of a thing can be coaxed out of its physical shell and poured into...
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