The Faded Shield
The rain tapped a frantic, staccato rhythm against the single pane of glass that separated Elias from the world. Inside the workshop, the air was thick with the scent of linseed oil and old paper. It was a smell he had known for forty years, a smell that sat in his hair and clung to the cotton of his shirts. He worked alone. The shop was small, a cramped rectangle of space at the end of a...
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