The Golden Circuit
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the courtyard into slick, black mirrors reflecting the high, barred windows of the keep, and you stand in the center of that wet, cold square, your boots sinking slightly into the mud that smells of iron and rot, feeling the weight of the sword at your hip not as a tool of justice but as a heavy,...
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