The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-20 17:17:59 -

The rain fell hard on the cobblestones. It smelled of iron. I stood at the gate. The city gates were heavy. Iron banded in oak. They creaked in the wind. I held my sword. My hand shook. I was a soldier. I had no name now. Only a duty. The city was dying. Or so they said. The walls were black. The towers were silent. Inside, the King sat. He did not speak. He did not eat. He watched the fog. The...

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