The Pale Circus

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2026-08-24 09:16:03 -

The Pale Circus

The mud of the courtyard was thick and black, sucking at the iron-shod hooves of the horses as Sir Alaric Thorne dismounted, his legs trembling not from the cold of the November morning but from the weight of the parchment clutched in his hand. He was forty years old, a man carved from the same hard oak as the castle walls that had watched over his family for three generations, and he had come...

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