The Golden Oath
The bell rang. It was a deep, bronze voice that shook the dust from the high rafters of the Hall of Echoes. Elias stood at the edge of the crowd, his hands trembling. He wore the gray wool of a scribe, a garment worn soft by years of ink and silence. Around him, the nobility churned in silk and steel. They looked at him. They did not see a man. They saw a stain. They saw the boy who had...
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