The Golden Quest
The door was locked. It had been locked for three days. Elias stood before it, his hand resting on the cold iron handle. He wore his uniform. The wool was heavy. It smelled of damp wool and old sweat. He did not look up. He looked at the wood. The grain was dark. It swirled like a storm in a teacup. Inside, there was no sound. Elias was a constable. He kept the peace in the lower district. The...
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