The Faded River
The parchment lay on the stone table, its edges curling in the damp air of the guardhouse. It was a tax ledger, thick as a brick, bound in leather that had cracked from years of neglect. Kaelen stared at the ink, black and dry, listing names he recognized with a cold shock. Thomas. Alistair. The men from the Third Company who had marched north three winters ago and never returned. They were not...
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