The Faded Shield
Thomas Ashworth woke with the taste of copper and yeast on his tongue. It was a thick, sweet cloying sensation, the taste of the spiced ale he had brewed for the King’s guard the night before. But the taste was wrong. It was sour, curdled, and it coated the back of his throat like a layer of wet ash. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the cellar. The air was cold and heavy,...
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