The Golden Oath
The parchment lay on the oak table, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and vinegar. It was a bill of rejection, signed by the Guild Master with a flourish that cost more in pride than in ink. Elias Thorne stared at the words, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the cold seeping through the floorboards of the Guild Hall. He wanted his son, Thomas, to be apprenticed. The Guild Master,...
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