The Golden Scar
Chapter One Eamon O’Casey’s fingers were black with ink as he balanced the Guild ledger on the edge of the oak table, the heavy gold medallion known as the Golden Scar pressing a cold, cracked weight against his sternum. He was thirty years old, a clerk of the Warden’s office, and his hands trembled not from the chill of the stable loft but from the discovery that the figures for the poor did...
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