The Distant Metropolis
The frost of the year 1342 had settled into the bones of the village of Oakhaven, a persistent, biting chill that seemed to seep through the very mortar of the stone walls, yet it was the silence within Elias’s own mind that felt more like a physical wound than the cold outside. He sat in the cramped scriptorium, his fingers stained with iron-gall ink, clutching a piece of parchment that had...
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