The Distant Blade

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2026-08-18 09:47:24 -

The Distant Blade

The hall was thick with the smell of roasted boar and damp wool. Torches flickered against the stone walls, casting long, trembling shadows that danced like restless spirits. Sir Thomas Bradshaw sat at the high table, his hands resting on the polished oak. They were steady hands. They had been steady for thirty years. The King’s justice had flowed through his veins like a cold, clear water. He...

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