The Golden Cellar

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2026-08-17 23:28:48 -

The Golden Cellar

The rain hits the thatch with a sound like tearing cloth. You are wet. The wool of your tunic is heavy, cold, and clinging to your ribs. You stand at the gate of the manor, the iron bars slick under your fingers. You are a soldier of the King’s guard, or so the papers say. In the mud, you are just a man with a sword that has seen too much blood and a mind that has seen too little sense. The...

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