The Faded Shield
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Academy tasted of chalk dust and old, stagnant ambition, a dryness that cracked the lips of the junior faculty who stood in the long, shadowed corridor leading to the Dean’s office. You, Margaret, held the shield in your left hand, its surface a mosaic of tarnished silver and cracked enamel, a relic from the Academy’s founding charter that you had spent...
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