Chapter Eighty Seven – The Strangers at the Gate

They came with the mist.

No drums. No banners. Only the clatter of hooves and the scent of sea-iron.

By first light, they were everywhere.

At the gates.

In the market.

Outside the chapels.

Men clad in rough leathers, helms without crest, speaking in a tongue that bent the ear like rusted m...

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