The Faded Portrait
The blood was warm. It ran from a cut above Ede’s left eye, mixing with the rain that hammered the cobblestones of the King’s square. He did not flinch. He held his ground. “Yield,” said the Captain. Ede looked at the Captain. The man was tall. He wore silk over steel. His face was calm. His voice was soft. “I will not,” Ede said. The crowd watched. They were silent. They were cold. The rain...
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