The Faded Shield

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2026-08-17 21:20:45 -

The Faded Shield

The feast hall of the keep at Oakhaven was thick with smoke and the smell of roasted lamb, the air heavy enough to taste on the tongue. It was a night of winter, the kind where the cold does not just bite but freezes the marrow, and the fire in the great hearth roared with a low, constant threat. Sir Edmund Ashworth sat near the center of the long table, his back straight as a spear shaft,...

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