The Pale Path

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2026-08-17 11:00:56 -

The Pale Path

The hall smelled of roasted boar and old stone. It was a smell that had seeped into the very mortar of the fortress, a scent of iron and grease that no amount of scrubbing could remove. I stood at the edge of the feast, my hand resting on the pommel of my sword. The metal was cold. My hand was not. Lord Ashworth sat at the head of the long oak table. He was a large man, his face red from the...

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