The Distant Blade
The chisel had weighed twelve pounds for forty years, a fact Elias knew by the ache in his left shoulder, by the specific way the calluses on his thumb had hardened into ridges of stone itself. He stood before the Guild Master, the air in the Hall of Echoes thick with the scent of wet limestone and the low, thrumming hum of the Boundary Wall. His son, Thomas, lay in the infirmary below, his...
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