The Distant Blade
The feast had lasted three days, a fever of roasted swan and spiced wine that burned through the cold stone air of the keep, and in the center of the great hall, beneath the vaulted ceiling where the torchlight danced in frantic, restless circles, stood Silas Thorne. He was a man of few words and heavy hands, a scholar of the old laws who had spent his life cataloging the sins of kings in...
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