The Faded Shield
You’re late. The squire hissed, his voice thin as the sleet that was hammering against the tin roof of the loft. I didn’t turn. I was watching the shield, that dented piece of iron I’d carried through the Iron Guard’s longest campaign, now turning into translucent glass under the dim grav-light. It was a violation of physics, a slow erosion that had started the moment I accepted the debt to...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews