The Golden Scar
The carriage wheels rattled over the cobblestones of the capital, a rhythmic, metallic thrum that vibrated through the soles of my boots and into the marrow of my bones, shaking loose the last dregs of the provincial dust that had settled in my lungs during the long journey north. I sat hunched in the corner, my hands clasped so tightly around the leather-bound portfolio that the knuckles had...
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