The Golden Circuit
The letter lay on the table, its edges worn soft from the journey, the ink still damp where Elias had signed his name. He folded it carefully, tucking it into the breast pocket of his wool coat, and looked out the window of the inn room. Below, the town of Oakhaven spread out in a patchwork of thatch and stone, the smoke from the chimneys rising in thin, grey ribbons against the pale November...
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