The Golden Quest
You see it again? The words hung in the damp air of the cellar, thick with the smell of wet wool and old iron. Elias Thorne did not answer. He stood before the polished steel of a longsword, his reflection staring back at him, distorted and golden. He was thirty-two years old, a sergeant of the Guild Watch, and he had come to the vault not to steal, but to find the empty space where the circlet...
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