The Faded Apartment
The feast was a roar of clattering silver and the heavy, cloying scent of roasted lamb and spiced wine, a cacophony that seemed to press against the inside of my skull with a physical weight that made my vision blur at the edges. I sat at the head of the long oak table in the great hall of the Guild of Scribes, the candles flickering in the drafty air, their flames trembling in a way that...
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