The Golden Oath
The autumn wind off the harbor tasted of salt and iron, a sharp tang that settled deep in the lungs of the old city, and you stood at the edge of the pier, watching the last of the fishing boats drift away into the grey mist that was swallowing the sun. You were a man of wood and water, a shipwright whose hands were mapped with scars from a lifetime of coaxing splintered oak into the shape of...
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