The Faded Photograph
The wool of the crimson doublet had long since lost its vibrant saturation, fading into a dull, rust-colored hue that blended seamlessly with the dried blood and the damp, grey stone of the castle’s undercroft, a garment that had once been a symbol of the highest order’s chivalric glory now serving merely as a shroud for the silence that had swallowed the city of Aethelgard whole, where the air...
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