The Golden Visit
The mud in the square of Oakhaven was a thick, sucking paste that held the boots of the dead and the living in equal, undifferentiated grip. It was the autumn of 1348, and the air smelled of rotting turnips and the sharper, metallic tang of fear. Sergeant Thomas stood at the center of the town’s main thoroughfare, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, watching the plague carts rattle...
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