The Faded Sutra
The hand of Sergeant Elias Thorne moved with the precision of a man who had spent thirty years sharpening edges, tracing the rim of the pewter goblet as the feast of the Guild of Iron reached its peak. The candlelight caught the gold band on his finger, a simple circle that had fused to the skin over twelve years of marriage, now indistinguishable from the flesh itself. Elias watched the Guild...
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