The Golden Quest
The carriage wheels groaned against the packed mud of the royal road, a rhythmic, wooden complaint that had accompanied Silas Thorne for thirty years. He sat in the back, his posture rigid, his hands resting on his lap as if holding invisible tools. The air outside was thick with the scent of wet stone and woodsmoke, a heavy, medieval fog that clung to the spires of the capital. Silas was a...
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