The Golden Master
The train groaned against the iron rails, a low, metallic moan that vibrated through the soles of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s boots and settled in the hollows of his chest. He sat in the corner of the third-class carriage, his knees pressed close, his hands resting on the cold steel of the railing that ran along the wall. The window beside him was a pane of soot and rain, blurring the passing...
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