The Distant Crown
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the red clay of the valley into a soup that swallowed the boots of the men who marched through it, a relentless, sucking weight that dragged at every step and eroded the firm ground beneath their feet. You walked in the center of the column, your cloak heavy with water, your armor a cold cage against your chest, the metal slick and slippery under...
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