The Wistful Incense
The banquet hall of the Temple of St. Jude smelled of roasting lamb and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood. I stood at the edge of the table, my hands stained with soot, watching the High Priest, Father Ambrose, cut into the main course with the precision of a surgeon. I am Elias, forty-two years old, a master incense burner in the ancient city of Oria, and I have spent the last six months...
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