The Distant Legend
The rain did not fall so much as it seeped, a gray, persistent mist that clung to the stone walls of the Ashworth manor like a shroud refusing to be peeled away. Thomas Ashworth stood in the center of the grand hall, his boots heavy with mud, his uniform damp and ill-fitting against a frame that had once been sharp as a blade but had since softened into something indistinct and weary. He was a...
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