The Distant Blade

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2026-08-21 08:53:31 -

The Distant Blade

The feast was a cacophony of silver and bone, a shimmering hall of green glass where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted swan and stale incense. Sir Alistair Thorne sat at the far end of the long oak table, his hands resting on the polished wood, fingers drumming a silent rhythm against the grain. He was a man carved from the same stubborn stone as the cliffs of his homeland, though he...

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