The Distant Promise
The ink was still wet on the parchment when the Abbot’s shadow fell across my desk, and I did not look up. "You persist in a lie, Brother Elias," he said, his voice dry as the dust that settled on the vellum. "The deed is a forgery. The canon is clear. Secular claims against the Church are void." I wiped my quill on the rag, the bristles splayed and black with gall, and finally met his eyes. He...
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