The Golden Oath
The humidity in the valley was a physical weight, swelling the oak doors of the temple granary until they refused to close, and Burkhard Schwarz stood before the empty seal box, his hands trembling with the specific, cold dread of a man who has run out of time. He was twenty-five years old, an accountant for the parish, and he owed the temple three months’ rent, a debt that hung over his head...
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