The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-23 04:01:49 -

The rain drummed against the leaded windows of the keep, a relentless, hollow rhythm that matched the pounding in Sir Aldric’s chest. He sat alone in the damp stone chamber, the air thick with the scent of wet wool and old iron, clutching his father’s chipped helm in his hands as if it were a living thing. The iron was cold, pitted by years of neglect and the harsh climate of the north, but it...

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