The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-24 18:01:22 -

The wine was red, thick as blood, and it cost six silver coins a bottle, which was more than a man earned in a week’s honest labor. "Your pension, Sergeant Kaelen," the High Marshal said, not looking up from his ledger. "Denied." I stared at him. The hall was loud, a roar of clinking glasses and raucous laughter from the three hundred men eating roast boar. I wanted to scream. I wanted to draw...

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