The Faded Masquerade
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the mud of the highland pass into a thick, sucking paste that clung to the boots of the men walking behind him. Elias walked at the front, his head bowed not in prayer, but to keep the sleet from stinging his eyes. He was not a soldier, though he wore the dented iron breastplate of the King’s guard. He was a man who had broken a seal, and now he...
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