The Distant Blade
The taste of iron returned to me the moment the carriage wheels struck the gravel of the old estate, a cold, metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and signaled the presence of the Distant Blade. I am forty years old, a physician who has spent two decades in the shadow of a name that no longer holds power, and I have returned to this crumbling manor in the autumn of 1348 only because...
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