The Golden Quest
The rain did not fall so much as it hammered, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the High Ward into a slick, treacherous mirror. I stood in the center of the square, the mud sucking at the soles of my boots, the weight of the iron collar biting into my neck like a second jaw. It was cold. Not the sharp, clean cold of winter, but the wet, rotting chill of autumn that...
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