The Faded Alibi
The mud of the besieged keep had turned to a thick, sucking slurry that pulled at my boots with every step, a cold weight that mirrored the dread settling in my chest. I was Sir Aldric, forty-two years of age and twenty of service to the Crown, and I stood alone in the courtyard with a broken sword in my left hand and a sealed scroll tucked into the lining of my tunic. The mist was rising from...
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