The Wistful Atlas
The gate was not locked, but it was held shut by the sheer weight of expectation. "Are you ready, Sergeant?" The voice belonged to Lord Ashworth, standing in the shadow of the archway. He did not look at Aldric. He looked past him, into the grey, churning sky that hung low over the Keep. Aldric stood on the other side of the threshold, his armor polished to a dull, functional sheen, the steel...
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