The Faded Shield

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2026-08-18 09:34:14 -

The Faded Shield

The banquet hall of the Ashworth Manor did not smell of roasted pheasant or spiced wine, as a feast of such magnitude ought to, but rather of iron and old blood, a scent that clung to the velvet drapes like a persistent, invisible guest. It was the year of the Great Convergence, or so the newspapers claimed, though to those who served the High Council, it was simply the year the machinery of...

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