The Golden Suspect
The departure was not marked by the clatter of hooves or the dust of the road, but by the slow, deliberate closing of the heavy oak door that separated the world of the living from the sanctuary of the wife. Sir Alaric Vane stood in the threshold, his armor a dull, rain-slicked grey that absorbed the twilight rather than reflecting it, while his wife, Elara, remained in the deep shadow of the...
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