The Faded Shield
The quill in Elias Thorne’s hand trembled, not from the chill of the midwinter night, nor from the forty years of hunching over parchment that had eroded the cartilage in his knuckles, but from a sudden, visceral repulsion that rose in his throat as the ink bled into the skin of the page. He had come to the Archive of the City Watch in the year of our Lord 1342 with a singular, desperate...
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