The Golden Master
The rain had not stopped for three days, a steady, gray drumming that turned the mud of the pilgrimage road into a sucking pit. Elias walked with a limp, his left knee swollen and stiff from the fever he had barely shaken. He was a scholar of old texts, a man who preferred the dust of libraries to the wet of fields, but the war had swept him out of his study in Oxford and into the long, brutal...
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