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... faint scent of dried herbs hanging from the beams. Faded tapestries on the walls depicted ancient aerial battles family ancestors who once had decent airships and mana to burn. Now everything was dust and decay, just like the rest of our lives.

My mother made me sit in a hard chair beside the head table, servants bringing watered-down wine, dried fruit, and hard bread—the best our poor barony could offer without looking outright miserable. She settled into the high seat, posture straigh ...

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