The Faded Portrait
The mud of Vael did not merely soak; it consumed, a black, viscous grave that swallowed the boots of the Iron Guard whole. Sir Aldric, his forty years of service etched into the deep lines of his face and the permanent ache in his left knee, found himself locked in a brutal, close-quarters struggle with a rebel captain, their swords clashing in a rhythm that was less combat and more mutual...
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