The Pale Mist
The year was 1348, and the rain fell with a persistence that seemed to seek out the cracks in the mortar of Blackwood Keep. Sir Alaric stood alone in the great hall, the damp cold seeping through his wool tunic, his eyes fixed on the heavy oak table before him. On the parchment lay the deed of transfer, a document that would strip him of his ancestral lands and grant them to his nephew, Edward....
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