The Golden Downtown
The rain hit the cobblestones of the courtyard with a rhythmic, hollow thud, like a drum counting down to a silence that had already begun. Thomas stood at the edge of the marble terrace, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had not tasted blood in ten years. The steel was cold, familiar as the inside of his own skull. He was leaving. Not because the King had commanded it, though the...
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