The Distant Clue
The feast was a riot of smoke and salt, the air thick with the smell of roasting pork and the sharper, metallic tang of fear that no amount of ale could wash away. They sat in the great hall of the keep, a stone fortress perched on the jagged edge of a cliff where the mist rolled in from the sea like a white shroud. Commander Silas Vane sat at the head of the table, his hand resting on the...
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