The Pale Verdict
The great hall of the Citadel of Oakhaven did not merely stand within the city; it was the city, a monolith of grey granite and black basalt that rose from the cobblestones like a jagged tooth in the jaw of the world, its spires piercing the low-hanging mists that clung to the valley floor with the tenacity of old grief. I stood before its massive, iron-banded doors, the weight of my office...
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