The Golden Song

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2026-08-19 06:34:02 -

The Golden Song

The steam from the locomotive tasted of iron and burnt coal. I stood on the platform at Millhaven, watching the white fog curl around the iron legs of the engine. It was November. The year was 1912. The town smelled of wet wool and machine oil. I had traveled for three days to reach this place. I was a man of the Guard. We wore grey coats with brass buttons. We carried rifles that were clean...

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