The Distant Blade

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2026-08-18 04:49:36 -

The Distant Blade

The hall smelled of roasted lamb and stale beer. Torches hissed in the clay pots, throwing long, jagged shadows against the rough-hewn oak walls. Sir Edric stood by the great hearth. He held a silver cup. His hands did not shake. He had not shaken in three years. Not since the war. Not since the silence took his voice. Lord Malcom sat at the head of the table. He wore a cloak of black velvet....

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