The Golden Farce
The wind off the high plains does not care for your history, Elias Thorne, and as you stand before the great iron wheel of the North Gate, you feel the first cold seep of that indifference into your joints, a sharp, biting reminder that your twenty years of service are about to be weighed against the opinion of a man who has never held a wrench in his life. You are forty years old, a border...
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