The Faded Road

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2026-08-24 10:21:14 -

The Faded Road

The Feast of the Silver Hand was a cacophony of clinking steel and roasted pork, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and unwashed bodies. I sat at the head of the table, my captain’s uniform stiff with starch, feeling the cold bite of the iron chain bound to my wrist. It was a symbol of my subjugation, a reminder that I was a tool, not a man, in the eyes of Duke Alistair. My wife,...

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