The Golden Oath
The rain did not fall so much as it was thrown, a cold, horizontal lash that turned the moors into a churning sea of brown silt and broken reeds. We were three days into the siege, the castle walls of Alderwick crumbling under the weight of the winter, and I felt the stone beneath my boots trembling with a fatigue that was not my own but the earth’s. My armor, once polished to a mirror sheen by...
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