The Wistful Show
The sword breaks. It snaps at the hilt, a clean severance that leaves you holding only the pommel in your right hand and the jagged, useless stub of the blade in your left. You are on your knees in the mud of the courtyard, the rain mixing with the blood that trickles from a gash on your forehead. Before you stands Lord Aldous, his armor polished to a mirror sheen that reflects the gray,...
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