The Golden Visit
The mortar shell struck the eastern rampart with a sound like a god cracking his knuckles, and I watched the dust settle before I dared to open my journal, my hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that followed the blast. I am Elias Thorne, thirty years old, an alchemist of no particular renown, and I have climbed the treacherous slopes of Aethelgard...
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