The Distant Machine

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2026-08-22 11:30:20 -

The feast hall smelled of roasted boar and stale incense, the air thick enough to choke on. You sat at the high table, your armor polished to a mirror shine, though your hands trembled beneath the linen cloth. The torches flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls of the keep. Your father, Lord Edward, raised his goblet. The liquid inside was dark, viscous, catching the...

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