The Golden Ritual
The road to the manor of Sir Julian Thorne was a ribbon of mud that had not known the sun in weeks. Thomas Ashworth walked it with the steady, heavy rhythm of a man who had forgotten how to be anything other than a vessel for duty. He was the King’s Justiciar, a title that in the villages of the north meant little more than the boot on the neck of the commoner and the seal on the throat of the...
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