The Faded Quadrant
The road was not paved, but it was hard, a ribbon of grey stone that seemed to grow out of the earth like a vein of quartz exposed by some ancient, careless hand. Thomas Ashworth walked it with the heavy, measured gait of a man who had spent twenty years listening for footsteps in the dark. He was a soldier in the old sense of the word, not a recruit, not a mercenary, but a guardian of a...
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