The Faded Shield
The deed is invalid, Thorne said, and the sound of his voice seemed to crack the very air in the small, stone-walled office where the village records were kept. Elias stood there, clutching the chipped clay shield against his chest as if it were a shield of its own, though it offered no warmth against the damp chill that seeped through his woolen tunic. Thorne, the village elder, did not look...
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