The Faded Shield
The brass key turns in the lock with a sound like a bone breaking. You are Elias, thirty-two, a junior archivist in the Royal Antiquities Bureau, and your hands are shaking so badly you have to grip the edge of the desk to keep the key from clattering onto the stone floor. The empty case for the Faded Shield sits in the center of the table, its velvet lining a dull, bruised purple, waiting for...
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