The Pale Verdict
The feast of the High Table was a thing of silence and steel, a banquet where the food was cold and the wine tasted of iron. In the Great Hall of Aethelgard, a place suspended between the waking world and the grey mists of the afterlife, the light did not come from the sun but from the polished armor of the three hundred men who sat in rows, their faces pale as bone and their eyes holding the...
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