The Faded Bouquet
The candlelight in the infirmary of Blackwood Keep did not so much illuminate the room as it revealed the decay of the stone, a pale, trembling yellow that caught the rust on Sir Aldric’s pauldrons and the deeper, more visceral rust of the blood drying in the grooves of his leather harness. He sat on the edge of the cot, his hands wrapped around a chipped clay cup, watching the liquid inside...
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