The Distant Blade
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the world outside the manor’s high windows into a smudge of wet slate and dying grass. You stood by the fireplace, the heat of the hearth a distant, sibilant comfort against the chill that seemed to seep into the very stones of the hallway. In your hands, you held the letter. It was not a letter of love, nor of war,...
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