The Golden Oath
The mud of the courtyard did not merely cover the stones; it swallowed them, a thick, sucking slurry that smelled of iron and rot, rising up to the knees of the forty men who had held the line for three days. Sir Alistair stood at the breach in the outer wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps that misted in the cold morning air, his eyes fixed on the shattered timber where the hidden tunnel...
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