The Pale Door
Act I "Entry for the 14th of November: The snow has sealed the high pass. The levy is due at moonrise. I have no coin." Werner Hoffmann sat in the cooling room of the Turkish bath, the heat radiating through the thin wool of his tunic, his hands wrapped around a cup of lukewarm tea. The kettle in the corner had stopped boiling an hour ago, its silence a physical weight against the drumming rain...
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