The Golden Ritual

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2026-08-19 08:01:11 -

The Golden Ritual

The arrow took him in the throat. It was a clean strike. No scream. Just a wet thud against the leather of his collar. Barnaby fell. The mud of the valley was cold. It seeped through his doublet. It smelled of iron and old rain. He did not die. Not yet. The war had come to the valley of St. Jude. The banners of the King were red. The banners of the Duke were blue. Barnaby wore grey. He was a...

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