The Pale Fracture

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2026-08-20 17:25:27 -

The Pale Fracture

The feast was a spectacle of controlled chaos. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted boar and honeyed apples, the air thick with the smell of woodsmoke and roasted meat. In the high hall of the Whitmore estate, the torches burned low, casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. Sir Thomas Whitmore sat at the head of the table, his face a mask of weary authority. He was an...

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