The Pale Exile
The ledger lay open on the desk, its pages thick with the ink of the last six months, and Elias Vane counted the lines of debt with a finger that had gone numb from the cold seeping through the stone floor. It was the fourteenth of November, 1342, and the light in the Throne Room of the Pale King was the color of old bone, a flat, sourceless glow that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves...
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