The Golden Echoes
The rain fell in sheets against the cobblestones of the High Street, turning the midday light into a bruised and murky grey. Captain Elias Thorne moved through the crowd not as a man but as a function of the Duke’s authority, his heavy cloak soaked through, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword with the casual familiarity of a long marriage. He was forty years old, his face a map of scars...
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