The Golden Harbor
The parchment was damp, the ink smeared into a brown smear that looked less like words and more like dried blood. Sir Aldric Thorne held it by the corner, his fingers trembling not from cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the signature at the bottom. Captain Vane had written it in a hand so steady it seemed to cut the air. *For the crime of heresy and abandonment of duty, the knight Sir...
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