The Distant Blade
In the cold, damp air of the high tower, Elias Thorne held a sheet of parchment so tightly that the fibers began to fray under his calloused fingers, the document a physical weight that seemed to pull his hands down toward the stone floor. He was forty-two years old, an archivist of the Guild of Records, and for the last decade he had lived in the shadow of the River Aethelgard, a waterway that...
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