The Golden Oath
The rain on the cobblestones of the High Court square had turned to a fine, cold mist that clung to your skin like a second, wetter layer of the roughspun wool you wore, and as you stood there, shivering under the weight of the oak door’s shadow, you felt the eyes of the gathered crowd prick at your back, a thousand small needles of judgment and curiosity piercing through the damp air to find...
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