The Golden Maze
Act I I remember the weight of the satchel before I remember the stones. It was a thing of leather and iron, heavy with the Royal Cipher, and it sat against my spine like a second ribcage. I was Tadhg Hegarty, thirty-two, a veteran of the Iron Guard, and I stood at the city gates where the cobblestones of Donegal met the high moor. The spring air was sharp with late frost, the kind that kills...
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