The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-17 19:36:43 -

The Wistful Petal

The iron bit of my gauntlet scraped against the wet stone of the dungeon floor, a sound like a grinding tooth, as I waited for the verdict that had already been written in the cold, indifferent ledgers of the Abbey. I am not a man of high station, nor of lowly birth, but something in between, a mechanism of the state, a scribe who has forgotten how to speak in anything other than the formal...

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