The Golden Song
The iron gate groaned, a sound like a dying beast, as you pushed it open. It was not a large gate, but it felt monumental against the weight of the silence that followed you into the courtyard. You were a soldier, though not in the way the chronicles described. You were a keeper of the perimeter, a man of the shield, your armor dented and rusted at the joints, your face a map of scars earned in...
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