The Golden Quest
The ink is bleeding again, Elias Thorne thought, staring at the black smear spreading across the vellum like a bruise under skin. He had been working for three hours, his fingers numb from the cold damp of the archive room, trying to stabilize the Charter of 1348 before the Duke’s inspection. The parchment was old, brittle as dried leaves, but the ink should have been fixed by centuries of...
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