The Golden Visit
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the clay road into a slurry that sucked at the boots of Sir Thomas Bradshaw. He rode alone, his horse, a dark and weary steed named Grief, picking its way through the mist that clung to the hills like a burial shroud. Thomas was a man of the Crown, a knight sworn to protect the realm, yet his armor felt less like protection and more like a cage....
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