The Last Waltz of the Count
The moon over the Carpathian mountains was a sliver of bone, casting a pale, sickly light over the ruins of Castle Valerius. Once, these halls had echoed with the laughter of diplomats and the music of Vivaldi; now, they echoed only with the sound of the wind whistling through shattered stained glass. Count Valerius, the last of a line that stretched back to the Crusades, lay in a bed of...
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