The Pale Echo

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2026-08-19 19:48:30 -

The Pale Echo

The great hall of the Citadel of Saint Jude smelled of roasting venison, wet wool, and the metallic tang of old blood that never quite washed from the flagstones, a scent that had permeated the very bones of the stone walls over centuries until it became indistinguishable from the mortar itself. Lord Ashworth sat at the high table, his hands folded loosely over his knees, watching the dancers...

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