The Golden Oath
The stone arch of the Citadel groaned under the weight of the sky, a sound like a dying man clearing his throat. I stood beneath it, the cold damp seeping through the wool of my tunic, and watched Captain Alistair Vane take my sword. It was a simple exchange, a piece of steel passing from my grip to his, yet it felt heavier than the iron itself. Vane was a man of high birth, his face pale and...
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