The Pale Circus
The frost bit into my leather as I rode north, the highlands a grey smear of mist and stone. I wanted Elara back from the border before the winter freeze locked the passes, but the road was blocked by more than snow. Lord Vane had dismissed my report of the Oakhaven massacre as hysteria, citing the new edict that forbade Rangers from investigating civilian disputes without a writ. He called it...
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