The Golden Visit
Chapter One "You are late, Sergeant." Pietro Nicosi did not answer. He sat on the edge of his cot, the wool blanket heavy in his lap, weighing down his knees. The barracks was damp. It had always been damp, a wet stone that never dried, no matter how hard the sun beat against the high, barred windows. Outside, the wind pushed against the glass, a low, constant moan that sounded like a mule...
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