The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-17 15:12:33 -

The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the village square into a mirror of the bruised sky. I stood in the doorway of the manor house, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, feeling the cold dampness seep through the heavy wool of my doublet. My name was Elias, and I was the steward’s son, a man who had learned the weight of a blade...

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