The Pale Shadows
Aldric. The name was called by the castle’s own damp, a low moan in the stones that vibrated in the knight’s left knee. Sir Aldric stood in the great hall, the morning light thin and grey, cutting through the high windows at an angle that illuminated the dust motes dancing above the flagstones. He was fifty years old, and his body was a ledger of debts, each joint a line item of pain that the...
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