The Faded Shield
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of Oakhaven into a slick, treacherous mirror reflecting the soot-stained faces of the men who gathered in the shadow of the great stone church, where the air smelled of wet wool, stale beer, and the metallic tang of fear that had settled into the marrow of the town like damp rot. Thomas Ashworth...
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