The Pale Mist

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2026-08-24 08:11:46 -

The Pale Mist

The ledger was open on the table, the ink still wet. I stared at the column of numbers, the tally of grain sacks remaining in the granary. Thirty-two. That was all we had left for the winter. The pen in my hand felt heavy, a dead weight of duty. I was Thomas, a sergeant of the garrison, and my job was to ensure that no one in this castle starved before the snow melted. But the air in the room...

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