The Pale Tower
The iron gate groaned, a sound like a bone snapping under a heavy boot, and Major Elias Thorne did not turn to see who stood in the doorway. He knew the weight of the boots before he saw the man. "The insurgent is prepared, sir," the voice said, flat and devoid of the tremor that Thorne had expected from a junior officer facing the executioner’s block. "The mechanism is primed. We await your...
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