The Faded Root

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2026-08-24 06:43:39 -

The Faded Root

Silas. The name was called by a man in a velvet doublet, his voice cutting through the noise of the harvest feast like a blade through wet cloth. I looked up from my stew. The table was groaning under the weight of the feast: roasted boar, wheels of hard cheese, jugs of dark ale, and loaves of rye bread stacked high. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of unwashed bodies. I am Silas. I...

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