The Golden Farce
The stone cracked down the center with a sound like a bone breaking, and Thomas felt the vibration travel up through his boots, into his shins, and settle heavily in his chest. He stood in the center of the courtyard, the shattered halves of the mirror-plate lying in the dust at his feet, reflecting the grey sky in two disjointed, weeping eyes. The air smelled of ozone and old blood. His sword...
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