The Dragon of Ghent
Ding-a-ling. Ding-a-ling-a-ling.
Sofie scowled, set down the new display plaque, and rubbed her ears. This was the seventh night in a row now, and she couldn’t focus with the strange, inconsistent ringing. Some quiet would be nice. She glared at the various bells arranged on display blocks or hanging from black ribbons.
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