The Wistful Show

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2026-08-22 14:19:14 -

The Wistful Show

The goblet was heavy in Sir Thomas’s hand, the wine dark as dried blood. He did not drink. He watched the candlelight catch the rim, a thin arc of gold trembling with every shift of the crowded hall. The feast of Lord Blackwood was in full roar, a cacophony of clinking steel and loud, drunken laughter that bounced off the stone walls. Thomas stood near the hearth, his hand steady, his eyes...

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