The Golden Harbor
In the damp chill of the watchtower, Elias Thorne held the sealed decree in his ink-stained fingers, the parchment rough and heavy against his palm. It was a simple document, a requisition for the removal of the infected from the Abbey of St. Jude, yet the wax seal felt like a stone in his hand, cold and final. He had served the City Watch for twelve years, a tenure that promised a modest...
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