The Distant Ghost
The siege began on a Tuesday. The air in the Hall of Records was thick with the dust of parchment and the sweat of men who had not slept. I stood at the center of the room. My sword was unsheathed. It was a long, silver blade, polished to a mirror sheen. It reflected my face. The face was hollow. The eyes were dark. I did not blink. Lord Aldous stood before me. He wore a coat of crimson velvet....
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