The Golden Visit
The road to the Citadel of Aethelgard was not a path but a scar, a jagged line of black stone cut through the pale, mist-choked hills that had stood unchanged since the first kings walked the earth. I walked it with the heavy, rhythmic tread of a man who had long since stopped counting his steps, my boots caked in the red clay of the valley below, a color that seemed to seep into the very grain...
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