The Faded Road
The letter lay on the rough-hewn table, its ink still wet and smelling of iron and vinegar, and Elias Thorne read it for the third time, his thumb tracing the jagged line of the signature that had cost him his pension, his rank, and the respect of every man who had ever served under him. It was the fourteenth of October, 1342, and the light through the single window was thin and gray, falling...
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