The Golden Circuit
The ink is black. It stains the vellum. It stains your hands. You scrub. The stain remains. You are in the scriptorium. The air is cold. It smells of dust. It smells of old paper. It smells of fear. You are Brother Thomas. You are the scribe. You are the scholar. You know the Latin. You know the Greek. You know the secrets. You write. The quill scratches. The sound is sharp. It cuts the...
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