The Pale Protocol
The letter was written on parchment so thick it felt like a second skin, the ink a shade of brown that had dried into a dull, earthy crust. Elias stood before the great oak table in the center of the Grand Hall, his fingers trembling slightly as he held the quill. Around him, the air was heavy with the scent of roasted boar, spiced wine, and the metallic tang of blood that seemed to cling to...
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