The Golden Scar
The brass badge was cold against Elias’s thumb as he adjusted the cuff of his grey tunic. The annual Loyalty Feast was in full swing in the Grand Hall, the air thick with the smell of roasted lamb and the sharp, metallic tang of the incense burned to purify the Republic’s air. Elias stood near the back, beside a pillar wrapped in white silk, watching the High Warden move through the crowd. He...
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