The Faded Shield
The ledger showed three days left, and the cost of the repair was already beyond the guild’s budget. Elias Vane stood in the Guildhall, his boots caked with the black mud of the eastern sector, looking at Master Halloway who sat behind a desk of dark oak. The air in the room smelled of wet wool and the faint, coppery tang that always preceded a shift in the mist. Elias wanted the contract. He...
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