The Distant Summer
The rain in the autumn of 1348 did not fall so much as it hung, a gray curtain drawn tight against the windows of the Ashworth estate, blurring the world into a smear of mud and decay that mirrored the fraying state of Sir Kaelen’s armor. He stood in the courtyard, the weight of his father’s legacy pressing down on his shoulders with a physical heaviness, his hands trembling not from the cold...
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