The Distant Promise
The parchment lay on the rough-hewn table, its edges brittle with age, the ink faded to the color of dried blood. Brother Thomas stared at the list of medicinal supplies requested by the infirmary, his thumb tracing the line where the quantity of willow bark had been crossed out. The Abbot’s seal, a red wax disc stamped with the saint’s face, sat in the corner, unbroken. Thomas signed the...
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