The Wistful Cipher

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2026-08-22 09:27:10 -

The feast was a lie of roasted pork and stale ale, served on rough-hewn tables in the great hall of the keep. Outside, the wind screamed through the gaps in the stone, carrying the scent of wet earth and decay from the Black Forest. Inside, the village elders sat in the shadows, their faces carved by worry, watching Sergeant Elias Thorne with eyes that held no warmth. He was thirty-two years...

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