The Faded Shield
The stone had been there for three hundred years, a sentinel of grey basalt that held the weight of the valley’s history on its shoulders. It stood in the center of the courtyard of the Hall of Measures, a place where the geometry of the earth was translated into the language of law. I was a mason, a man who spoke in chisels and mortar, and I had been tasked with the restoration of the shield’s...
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