The Distant Wound

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2026-08-20 07:20:41 -

The Distant Wound

The bell rang not for a meal, but for a death. It was a hollow, iron sound that shook the dust from the high rafters of the Hall. It vibrated in the marrow of Sir Thomas’s bones. He stood at the center of the floor, his hands empty, his sword sheathed at his hip. The air was thick with the smell of wet wool and old wood. He felt the eyes of the court on him. They were heavy. They were cold. He...

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