The Weight of the Medal
The border town of Ostrava was a place where the wind always tasted of iron and old blood. It was a town of checkpoints, barbed wire, and men with cold eyes who decided who lived and who died based on the stamp in a passport. Count Valmont had been a man of the world, a diplomat who believed that reason could bridge any divide. But reason was a foreign language in Ostrava. He had been betrayed...
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