The Golden Oath
The road into the valley of Oakhaven was not so much a path as a scar left by centuries of rain and the heavy iron wheels of carts that no longer carried grain, but only the silence of men who had gone to the wars and not returned, a silence so thick it seemed to have weight, pressing against the eardrums of the traveler who walked with the gait of one who does not fully believe his own limbs...
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