The Faded Shield

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2026-08-23 21:37:19 -

The Faded Shield

The count began at dawn, with the weight of the iron and the cold bite of the morning air. Sir Aldric, thirty-four years old and carrying the heavy, rusted scabbard of a man who had served for twenty years, tallied the provisions for the march: twelve sacks of hardtack, six barrels of water, and the quiet, terrifying certainty that he was walking toward his own erasure. He was not fighting for...

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