The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-17 13:11:56 -

The mist did not rise from the valley so much as it exhaled, a gray, wet breath that clung to the stone walls of the Keep of Aethelgard. It was a place of such profound, decaying silence that the sound of a single leaf falling on the flagstones seemed like a gunshot. Sir Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of the Great Hall, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in...

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