The Faded Shield
The letter lay on the kitchen table, the paper yellowed and brittle at the edges, smelling of dust and old wax. It was from the estate solicitor, informing you that the heir, Lord Blackwood, had died without issue. The Thornwood estate, with its crumbling turrets and overgrown gardens, would revert to the Crown unless a steward could prove the lineage of the family crest. You, Elias, forty-two...
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