The Pale Tale

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2026-08-19 18:46:34 -

The Pale Tale

The feast was loud. It was a sound like grinding stones, a heavy, wet noise that filled the hall of King Aldric’s castle. Torches burned low in iron sconces, casting long, trembling shadows across the tapestries. The air smelled of roasted boar, stale ale, and the metallic tang of fear. Caelan stood by the dais. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his armor polished to a mirror shine. But his hands...

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