The Pewter Seal

Moving past the horn disc, my boots traversed the pine planks of the table toward a heavy earthenware mug left standing near the center. Propped beside its coarse base lay an antique seal stamp of cast pewter, its round face engraved with deep Nordic knots. I halted, grounded the spiked haft of my staff against the wood, and gripped the cold metal stem with my left gauntlet. Tilting it upright, I inspected the sharp grooves carved into its heavy stamp. No deceit weakens this alloy. It stands firm under hand, ready to mark true pacts upon parchment.