The Golden Oath
The mud of the King’s causeway was thick as blood and twice as red, sucking at our boots with a wet, relentless greed that seemed to promise us nothing but a slow, suffocating end. I stood there, my shield slick with the rain that had turned the battlefield into a swamp, and I felt the weight of the sword in my hand less as a weapon and more as a burden I had carried so long I had forgotten I...
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