The Golden Oath
The hammer strikes the anvil, a sharp, metallic ring that cuts through the low hum of the forge’s ventilation fans. Arthur Vane’s hands are steady, though the muscles in his forearms ache with a deep, dull throb that has been building since dawn. He is forty years old, a master blacksmith in the industrial town of Oakhaven, and the sword in his grip is not a tool for war but a commission for...
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