The Wistful Letter
The feast in the Great Hall of the Ironwood Keep was a grotesque parody of joy, a riot of roasted boar and heavy red wine that stained the linen tablecloths the color of old blood. Sir Thomas Bradshaw sat at the far end of the long oak table, his armor polished to a mirror sheen, yet his eyes remained fixed on the floor, tracing the grain of the wood as if seeking a map to a place that no...
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