The Golden Suspect
The morning air in the keep of Blackwood Castle tasted of iron and damp stone, a metallic tang that sat heavily on the tongue. Commander Elias Thorne stood before the great oak table, his hands resting on the polished surface, fingers trembling with a fatigue that no sleep could cure. He was a man carved from the same harsh landscape as the fortress, broad-shouldered and unyielding, yet there...
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