The Pale Letter
The road was wet. You walked fast. The mist clung to the heather. It tasted of iron. You carried a satchel. It was heavy. It held your life. It held your sins. You were a stranger here. A man of the lowlands. A servant. You climbed the stone steps. They were slick. They were old. They led to the keep. The keep was a tooth in the jaw of the hill. It did not care if you lived. It did not care if...
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