The Faded Portrait
Aldric. The name was dragged through the mud by the wind, a harsh summons that cut through the low, chanting hum of the siege engines. He stood knee-deep in the slurry of the Vael approach, his iron breastplate slick with a mixture of rain and the blood of men who had already fallen, his sword raised not in a strike but in a terrible, suspended question. The air here did not behave as air...
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