The Faded Shield
The count was simple: three hundred and twelve guests, forty-two chairs missing, and one badge hanging loose on my belt, swaying like a pendulum in a drafty room. The heat in the Oakhaven Community Hall was a physical weight, a wet wool blanket pressed against the skin, and the air smelled of stale beer and the metallic tang of fear. I stood on the dais, the microphone feedback screeching a...
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