The Wistful Throne

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2026-08-24 08:14:17 -

The winter of 1348 pressed against the shutters of my small, rented room in the lower city, a cold so biting it felt less like weather and more like a verdict, and I woke once again from the dream of the ancestral keep, that vast and silent stone structure that has stood empty since my father’s exile, its turrets piercing the grey sky like accusatory fingers. I am Elias, a scribe of forty...

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