The Golden Suspect
The road to the Citadel was not paved, but it was old. It had been trodden by the feet of ten thousand soldiers before my boots ever touched the mud, and it smelled of iron and wet stone. I walked it with the weight of my years in my bones, a heavy, grinding ache that no amount of discipline could ignore. My name is Elias Thorne. I am a man who has spent forty years in the service of the Law,...
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