Fifth Chronicle in the Paladin Project Saga

A cold Scotch mist chilled the miserable little troupe to the bone as it wound its way, trudging sluggishly, through the sodden Fenland countryside. The steamy breath of their horses gave them the appearance of smoking dragons. Water dripped from tree branches, their horses’ manes and soaked riders’ caps, cloaks, tunics and leggings as the ragtag little troupe’s heads gloomily bent under a seemingly soul-destroying burden.

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