The Faded Shield
You are holding the wrong end of the ledger, Master Corvin. Elias Vane said this without raising his voice. The air in the Guild Hall was thick with the smell of damp wool and old paper, a cold that settled in the joints and refused to leave. Master Corvin sat behind a desk of dark oak, his fingers steepled, watching Elias with the patience of a man waiting for a dog to stop barking. The Guild...
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