The Wistful Show
The mud of the Siege of Varenne was not merely wet earth; it was a thick, sucking grave that pulled at Sir Aldric’s boots as he raised his sword, the steel humming with a low, discordant note in the freezing air. Before him stood a peasant insurgent, a man no older than twenty with matted hair and eyes that burned with a ferocity Aldric recognized with a sickening lurch, for it was the same...
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