The Golden Oath
The dream began, as it always did, in the smell of wet wool and the taste of iron on the back of the tongue, a sensation so visceral that Thomas Bradshaw woke with a gasp, his body rigid in the narrow bed that creaked under the weight of his aching bones. He was a man of the law in a time when the law was a thin veneer over the chaos of the earth, a constable in the village of Oakhaven where...
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