The Faded Shield
Elias, move your arse or the frost will have you before I do. I heard the voice from the rear of the column, sharp and barking, cutting through the wind that screamed off the northern ridge. I did not turn. I kept my eyes on the stone face of the watchtower ahead, a slab of grey granite rising out of the snow like a broken tooth. My men were behind me, a loose cluster of wool and iron, their...
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