The Golden Suspect
1342, The Abbey of St. Jude. I am Elias, forty years old, a scribe whose hands have forgotten how to be anything but tools. The winter solstice is three days away, and the *Liber Vitae* remains unfinished. My pension depends on its completion, a fragile thread connecting my labor to my survival. I sit in the scriptorium, the smell of oak gall ink and damp stone thick in my throat. It is then...
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