The Golden Suspect
The first thing you count is the hours. You have been sitting in the cold for eleven of them, and the stone floor has drawn the last of the heat from your bones. In your palm, the gold circlet rests, a ring of polished metal that feels less like an object and more like a living thing, heavy and cold as a river stone pulled from the silt. You are Sir Elias, a knight of the Order of the Silver...
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