The Distant Blade
The ledger was not where Elias expected it, tucked beneath the loose flagstone in the foundation cellar where the damp air smelled of iron and old wool. He had been there for three days, mixing mortar in a bucket that scraped the bottom with a hollow, accusatory sound, trying to force his hands to steady before the final vaulting could begin. The winter solstice was two days away, and the...
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