The Distant Whispers
The gate of the Iron Keep groaned open, a sound like a dying man clearing his throat, as Elias Thorne pushed through the archway with the final ration of salted pork strapped to his chest. He was forty years old, a border warden stripped of his rank for refusing to execute a prisoner who had stolen bread, and he carried the weight of that refusal in the stiffening of his joints, a physical...
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