The Fallen Aegis

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2026-05-31 13:08:53 -

The Fallen Aegis

The rain in London did not fall; it descended like a shroud of grey lead, clinging to the soot-stained facades of the Victorian tenements. Arthur Penhaligon, once the High Marshal of the Northern Reach, stood by the window of his attic room, his reflection a ghost in the cracked glass. He wore a threadbare coat that had once been a mantle of gold and crimson, now faded to the color of dried...

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