The Golden Farce

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2026-08-19 18:47:15 -

The Golden Farce

The rain tasted of iron. Tobias held the shield high. It was a circle of oak, worn thin by years of rain and war. The paint had flaked away. Only the wood remained. Beneath his arm, the handle was slick with sweat. He stood in the mud of the valley. Across from him, the figures moved. They were not men. They were shadows with teeth. They wore the skins of wolves. They howled. The sound tore the...

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