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Chapter 43: A Chair with Purpose?
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Chapter 45: Men, Ships, and Boys
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... ed stink—unwashed men, old meat, wet wool, the sour tang of ale spilled on longhouse floors. He had expected noise too, the restless kind: boasting, laughter, a hall too proud of itself to hold its voice down.
Skjoldvik’s throne hall smelled of smoke, yes—but not the wild smoke of a desperate hearth.
This smoke was controlled. Braziers burned in iron bowls set at measured intervals. Their flames licked upward in steady tongues, throwing light across beams stained dark by years of ...
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