PREVIEW

... the ringing of the tower’s bell stopped.

And it just had to happen pretty much right as I mentally prepared myself to spend several hours just standing around doing nothing but holding the straps of my charcoal-heavy backpack to keep it from sliding off my back.

"Move your stones!"

Before long, a young man appeared from beyond the corner of the street, carrying a huge, wooden pole with what could only be the sign of Greg’s smithy poorly painted on it.

"Move your s ...

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