The Distant Affair
The rain had not stopped for three days, a grey curtain that blurred the edges of the valley and turned the cobblestones of the lower ward into slick, dark mirrors. In the highest tower of the Keep, where the stone walls were thick enough to swallow the sound of the storm, Sir Thomas Ashworth sat before a table of oak. He was a man carved from the same silent granite as his fortress, his face a...
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