The Golden Quest
The loaf was warm in my hands, the crust splitting with a sound like a knuckle cracking. It smelled of honey and ash, a scent that had become the only constant in our lives since the debt collectors took the last of our silver. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a guard of the King’s household, and I held that bread as if it were a weapon, though it was merely a loaf. The light in our...
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