The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-19 01:35:27 -

The blade sang. It cut the air with a thin, high note. Sir Aldric raised his shield. The wood splintered. Pain bit his left arm. He did not flinch. He was old. His knees were stiff. The armor weighed a ton. It was iron. It was cold. It was his skin. "Yield," he said. His voice was low. It rumbled in his chest. The young knight laughed. He was fresh. He was strong. His eyes were bright with...

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