The Golden Suspect

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2026-08-23 01:48:31 -

The chisel bit into the wood, shaving off a curl of oak that smelled of resin and old sweat. Eadric did not look up. His hands were steady, but the air in the keep felt thick, as if the stone walls were pressing in against his ribs. He was thirty years old, and his shoulders ached from a day spent in armor that fit too well. The King’s command was clear: capture Lord Malcom, the rebel who had...

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