The Distant Blade

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2026-08-18 00:01:41 -

The Distant Blade

The feast at the Whitmore estate was not a celebration of joy, but a ritual of endurance. The great hall, with its vaulted ceilings and tapestries depicting ancient, forgotten conquests, smelled of roasted venison, spiced wine, and the underlying, metallic tang of sweat that clung to the skin of every guest. Lord Aldous Whitmore sat at the head of the long oak table, his face a mask of polite...

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