At midday, the iron war horn of Blackwood Keep blew three long, droning blasts that echoed off the jagged granite crags of the Dragon's Tooth mountains. The dire sound signaled the arrival of hostile parley at the outer ramparts. Inside the Great Hall of the fortress, the massive double oak doors were flung wide. Beta Silas, his face drawn in hard, grim lines and his hand resting on the pommel…
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