The Golden Greenhouse
The name came from the high window, a voice that was not quite human but carried the weight of iron. "Aldric. You are late." Sir Aldric of the Order of the Sun stood before the shattered remnants of the Golden Greenhouse, the air around him thick with a golden mist that hummed like a struck bell. He was forty years old, his face a map of scars earned in the service of a Crown that owed him...
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