The Faded Shield
The debt was forty silver marks. That was the number Elias kept counting in his sleep, a rhythmic clatter against the back of his skull, louder than the rain. Thomas knew the weight of forty marks. It was the price of three winters of charcoal, or two years of his father’s labor in the iron mines, or the life of the boy who had sold the shield to the Guild for a pittance. The city of Oakhaven...
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