The Wistful Show

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2026-08-18 17:33:41 -

The Wistful Show

The iron bit of the horse, a beast named Grief, tasted of rust and old blood in my mouth as I galloped across the blackened fields of the valley, the sound of the pursuing arrows whistling like the sighs of the dead. I am Sir Julian of the Ashwood, or at least I was, until the moment the sun broke through the smoke and I saw myself reflected in the polished breastplate of the enemy king, a...

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