The Golden Visit

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2026-08-22 06:33:32 -

The Golden Visit

The iron was warm. Not hot. Just warm, like a hand held too long against the sun. I ran my thumb over the edge. Smooth. Too smooth. It was a dagger. Or a key. The distinction had stopped mattering three days ago. We were in the Keep. The air smelled of damp stone and old blood. My superior, Lord Ashworth, stood by the window. He did not look at me. He looked at the fog rolling in off the moor....

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