The Golden Quest
The rain in the autumn of 1342 did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a cold, suspended mist that settled into the wool of your cloak and the joints of your right knee, that persistent, throbbing ache which had become the sole cartographer of your existence since you first shouldered the granite block in the abbey yard seven years prior. You are Elias, a scribe of no particular renown, and...
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