The evening glow showered the Crimson Vale Territory.
Inside the smoking shed near the hot springs, smoked fish hung from wooden racks, their golden skins wrinkled and taut. The air was thick with a rich, woodsy aroma.
Arthur stood beside them, scrutinizing the results of the hours-long process.
He pressed a finger lightly against the surface of one fish. The dry, resilient texture told him it was ready. He nodded in approval.
"L-Lord..."
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