The Distant Threshold
The summons came not as a knock, but as a silence that swallowed the scratching of a dozen quills in the scriptorium. "Elias," the Steward’s voice cut through the damp air, low and sharp, carrying the weight of the King’s displeasure. "The Royal Cartographer is required in the Hall of Maps. Now." You did not look up immediately. Your eyes remained fixed on the vellum, where the ink was still...
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