The Pale Altar
The letter lay on the table, the wax seal broken, the ink still wet in the creases. You read it twice. The words were simple, but the weight of them was not. You were to report to the High Court immediately. It was a summons, but it felt like a noose. You are Thomas. You are thirty-two. You are a Captain in the Royal Guard. You want to be a Commander before the winter solstice. You need the...
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