The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-17 22:45:44 -

The snow had been falling for three days, a relentless, white hush that buried the iron gates of the Citadel and softened the sharp angles of the ancient stone towers until the fortress looked less like a prison and more like a dream of a prison. Inside the Great Hall, the air was thick with the scent of wet wool, stale ale, and the metallic tang of fear. Sir Aldric stood at the center of the...

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