The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-19 09:50:47 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray weeping that turned the castle courtyard into a mirror of the bruised sky above. Inside the great hall, the air was thick with the scent of wet wool, stale woodsmoke, and the metallic tang of fear. Sir Julian Ashworth stood apart from the cluster of men gathered around the long table, his back to the fire, his hands resting on the hilt...

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