The Distant Promise
The iron taste of blood is the first thing you notice, sharper than the cold that seeps into your bones through the thin, woolen tunic. You stand in the courtyard of the High Keep, the air thick with the scent of wet ash and the metallic tang of fear. Around you, the guards of the Order stand in rigid formation, their polished steel armor reflecting the pale, bruised sky that hangs low over the...
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