The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 20:50:47 -

The mud at the Siege of Vael did not smell of death, but of wet iron and the sour rot of turned earth. It was a smell that got into the teeth, a cold, metallic taste that Sir Kaelen chewed on as he counted the hours. One. Two. Three. He counted them because the counting was a task, and tasks kept the hands from shaking. The Iron Order had trained him to be a machine, a cog of steel and silence,...

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