The Golden Oath
The hall smelled of roasted pork and stale sweat. It was the kind of heavy, cloying scent that clung to the wool of a man’s coat long after he had left a room. We were gathered in the grand foyer of the Ashworth estate, a sprawling colonial house that sat atop a hill overlooking the gray, churning sea. There were forty of us. Soldiers. Men who had walked through fire and come out the other side...
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