The Pale Circus

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2026-08-18 13:42:47 -

The Pale Circus

The fog did not roll in; it settled, thick and grey as wet wool, against the stones of the keep’s outer wall until the world beyond the rampart ceased to exist. Sir Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of the circular room, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in ten years, his eyes fixed on the object on the table before him. It was a mirror, but not a glass of...

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