The Distant Legend
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray veil that turned the cobblestones of the royal courtyard into a slick, mirror-like expanse where the sky and the earth seemed to merge in a bruised, endless reflection. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the edge of the dais, his boots heavy with wet mud, his hands resting on the pommel of a sword that had not been drawn in years, the leather...
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