The Golden Suspect
The axe bit deep. The wood split with a sharp crack. Dust flew. Thomas stood still. His hands shook. He held the handle tight. The blade was buried in the oak. It was a good tree. Strong. Old. He looked up. The castle loomed. Gray stone. High walls. Windows like eyes. They watched him. The King’s men were there. They wore red cloaks. They carried spears. They waited. Thomas wiped his sweat. He...
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