The Faded Shield
The frost had not yet taken the cobblestones of the Lower Ward, but it had already claimed the ink in my scribe’s pen. I sat in the dim office of the Order of the Silver Veil, watching the tip of the quill dry into a black scar, and I knew that time was no longer a resource I could manage, but a debt I was already unable to pay. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a senior inspector who has...
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