The Faded Shield
The parchment lay on the heavy oak table, its edges curling slightly in the dry, dusty air of the Abbot’s scriptorium. Captain Elias Thorne read the denial for the third time, his fingers rough from years of gripping a sword hilt now resting unused in a corner rack. The document, signed in the precise, looping script of Abbot Silas, cited the quarantine protocols established three weeks prior,...
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