The Golden Oath
The fog did not roll in so much as it materialized, a thick, industrial slurry of coal smoke and damp earth that swallowed the city of Aethelgard whole, turning the gaslamps into dim, bleeding eyes and the cobblestones into slick, black tongues. I sat alone in the back of the carriage, my hands wrapped around a leather satchel that felt heavier than it had any right to, my knuckles white...
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