The Golden Oath
The bell rang for the third time. It was a dull, iron sound that vibrated in the teeth. Elara stood in the courtyard. The cobblestones were wet. Mist clung to the stones like a ghost. She wore the gray tunic of a minor scribe. Her hair was bound tight. It made her head feel small. She was nineteen. She had written for ten years. She had copied ledgers. She had transcribed laws. She had recorded...
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