The Faded Root

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2026-08-20 05:59:05 -

The Faded Root

The hall was thick with the scent of roasted boar and damp wool, a heavy, suffocating perfume that seemed to settle in the lungs rather than just the nose. Sir Thomas Bradshaw stood by the great hearth, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the flames lick at the iron grate. He was a man of few words, a shield-bearer for the Crown, and in the eyes of the court, he was a stain upon the...

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