The Distant Threshold
The rain fell in sheets of iron. It hammered against the thatch of the manor house, a relentless, drumming violence that shook the very stones of the hearth. Outside, the mud churned under the hooves of cavalry, the distant crash of cannon fire rolling through the valley like a slow, thunderous heartbeat. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wet wool and old blood. Thomas stood by the...
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