The Faded Frontier
The rain in the city of Aethelgard does not wash things clean, it merely makes the grime slick and the shadows longer, a perpetual damp that seeps into the marrow of those who walk the cobblestones from the old quarter to the high spires where the air is thin and cold and full of the humming resonance of the Great Bell. You remember the day you first saw the Bell, or perhaps you remember only...
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