The Golden Circuit
The letter was sealed with black wax, the insignia of the Order of the Iron Gate pressed deep into the surface. You held it in your gloved hands, the parchment cold against your skin, while the rain lashed against the high, narrow windows of the watchtower. Below, the village of Oakhaven slept beneath a blanket of fog, its thatched roofs indistinguishable from the dark earth. You were the...
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