The Pale Shadows
The silver cup sat on the table, its surface tarnished by the damp air of the cellar, and Master Alaric watched it with the same weary intensity he had reserved for his patients for thirty years, knowing that the weight of the metal was a small thing against the weight of the siege that rattled the very stones of Vael. He did not look up when the heavy oak door groaned open, admitting Lord...
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