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It becomes clear that the sanctuary afforded me within the walls of the Temple of the Harvest Moon in Harrowdale was to be temporary at best; If not for the proximity to the Southern shores of Mulmaster and that now wretched place I called home, then simply to decrease the number of...

What is the measure of joy for an individual? Is it counted over great tables, keenly watched by jealous eyes as they move it around in great piles? Is it spoken by forked tongues to ears that have no intention of listening, hollow words of flattery and obsequiousness? Or is it something...