The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-20 10:01:42 -

The Faded Alibi

The air in the Great Hall of the Whitechapel Garrison tasted of stale ale, roasted mutton, and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood that had soaked into the floorboards generations before we arrived, a scent that clung to the wool of my tunic and seemed to breathe with the very stones of the fortress, a physical presence that reminded me that we were not guests here but temporary anchors in a...

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