The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-20 00:06:42 -

The road to the Palace of Iron and Bone was not a path but a scar, a long, red gash torn through the weeping heath, and I walked it with the weight of my trade in my hands, a bundle of woven cloth that smelled of lanolin and old rain. I was a weaver, or so the world had called me, a man who understood the tension of the warp and the slack of the weft, but in the shadow of the High Court, I was...

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