The Golden Song
The mud of the trench had turned to a thick, sucking clay that seemed to pull at my boots with a physical hunger, and I wrote this down by the guttering light of a tallow stub while the rain hammered against the canvas of my tent like a thousand small fists. I am Sir Kaelen of Ashworth, and I have come here to the siege of Valmont to steal the Golden Song, a parchment said to hold the cure for...
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