The Wistful Crossroads
The feast hall of Alderwood Keep was a cathedral of noise and candlelight, the air thick with the scent of roasted boar, spilled wine, and the unwashed sweat of two hundred men who had marched for the border. You sat at the lower end of the long table, your armor polished to a dull, weary shine, the metal cold against your chest. Above you, the great oak beams were carved with the faces of...
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