The Golden Quest
The rain had been falling on the grey slate roofs of the capital for three days, a persistent, droning curtain that washed the color from the cobblestones and turned the air into a thick, wet wool. Inside the Grand Hall, the air was still and smelled of old wax and the faint, metallic tang of fear. Lord Aldric stood near the center of the room, his hand resting on the pommel of a sword that was...
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