The Pale Exile
The mud on the road outside the fortress of Kaelen had turned to a thick, sucking paste that seemed determined to swallow my boots whole, and I was dragging my left leg through it with a grim, rhythmic effort that did more to slow me than the weight of my own armor. I had been walking for three days, sleeping in ditches, eating only the hard, salted meat I had packed from the garrison kitchen,...
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