The Golden Circuit
Who can hold the weight of gold when the blood runs thin? The feast hall smelled of burnt sugar and fear. Adaeze Mensah stood before the long table, his hands shaking so badly he could barely grip the pen. He was forty, a garrison commander with a pension frozen mid-career, and he was signing the order to execute the village elder for treason. The golden circlet sat heavy on his brow, a relic...
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