The Faded Shield
The seal is broken, sir. It bleeds ink." Sir Aldric stared at the object on the oak table, the light from the single tallow candle guttering in the draft that slipped under the door. The rune of protection, a symbol his family had guarded for three generations, lay in two jagged halves, the black pigment seeping into the grain of the wood like a fresh wound. He was forty years old, his hands...
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