The Golden Harbor
The road to the Abbey is not a road at all, but a scar in the earth, a ribbon of wet clay and crushed bone that winds up the hillside into the teeth of the storm. You walk it with the heavy, rhythmic drag of boots that have forgotten how to be light. You are a man of the Crown, or you were, until the King’s death turned the world inside out and left you holding the hilt of a sword that no...
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