The Golden Oath
The convoy moved through the fog with the slow, grinding inevitability of a machine designed to erase the human element. Lieutenant Elias Thorne sat in the rear of the armored personnel carrier, his hands resting on his knees, fingers interlaced in a posture of forced stillness. The air inside the vehicle was thick with the scent of diesel, wet wool, and the metallic tang of anxiety. Outside,...
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