The Wistful Incense
"Do you smell that?" The question hung in the damp air of the dungeon, sharp as a blade. Sir Kaelen, Captain of the Guard, adjusted the leather strap of his sword belt. The leather was worn thin at the crease, a repair he had made himself three winters past with horsehair thread. It held, but it groaned when he moved. He was forty years old, a man built of service and silence, and he wanted...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima