The Distant Journey
The great hall of the Citadel of Aethelgard was not a place of rest, but of judgment, a cavernous expanse where the air hung heavy with the scent of stale incense and the metallic tang of old blood. In the center of this oppressive silence stood Caelen, the Royal Inquisitor, a man whose face had long since surrendered its youthful contours to the weathering of duty, leaving behind only a...
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