The Golden Visit
The rain did not fall so much as it existed, a heavy, grey curtain that erased the boundary between the earth and the sky. Inside the stone watchtower, which had been repurposed from a medieval granary, the air was thick with the smell of wet wool and old gun oil. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the center of the room, his back to the single barred window. He was a large man, built for endurance...
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