The Pale Path

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2026-08-23 07:34:59 -

The Pale Path

The fog in the valley of Ashwick was not merely weather; it was a physical weight, a wet wool dragged across the face of the earth. Sir Aldric rode at the head of the column, his armor dull and pitted, the metal cold against his skin in the biting November air of 1342. He was thirty years old, a man whose face had been carved by wind and duty into something hard and unyielding. In his...

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