The Golden Oath

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2026-08-22 19:49:05 -

The Golden Oath

The dream was always the same: a chalice of pure gold, hot enough to blister the skin, held in hands that would not let go. Brother Thomas woke in the scriptorium, the smell of damp wool and old vellum clinging to his nostrils, his palms sweating against the rough parchment of the manuscript he was to finish for Bishop Aldric by week’s end. He was thirty-two years old, a scribe of modest talent...

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