The Faded Portrait
The seal on the parchment was cracked, the red wax flaking like dried blood in the pale, thin light of the dawn. You held it in your gauntleted hands, the metal cold and stiff against your skin, feeling the tremor that started in your left knuckle and traveled up the forearm, a betrayal of the muscle that had carried a sword for twenty years. This was the letter from King Aldous, the summons...
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