The Golden Visit
The morning the King’s own banner was torn from the gable of our keep, I stood in the courtyard with my hands clasped behind my back, watching the silk flutter down to the mud like a dead bird with wings of crimson and gold. I am a man of the Law, a Keeper of the Peace in these borderlands, and for thirty years I have worn the iron badge of the Crown on my breast, a cold weight that I have come...
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