The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-23 13:21:03 -

The merchant’s hand tightened on the reins, his knuckles white against the leather. "You carry a heavy thing, Sir Elias," he said, not looking up from the mud that sucked at the wagon’s wheels. "Heavier than a man should." Elias did not answer. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, the steel cold and dull under his glove. The year was 1348, and the air smelled of rot and wet wool. He had...

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