The Golden Oath
The ink in Elias’s well had begun to smell of copper and old blood, a scent that clung to the damp stone walls of the keep’s scriptorium like a persistent ghost. He was thirty-two, a man whose life was measured in the precise alignment of letters on vellum, and he wanted only to prove his worth to Duke Aldric so that the marriage to Elara, promised in the quiet hours before dawn, would be...
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