The Faded River
The parchment lay flat on the obsidian table, its edges curling slightly from the damp air of the Council chamber. It was a formal denial, drafted in the precise, angular script of the High Steward, refusing Kaelen’s petition for a sanctioned duel. Kaelen, a thirty-two-year-old veteran of the Border Wars with a scar that pulled the corner of his mouth down in a permanent grimace, stared at the...
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