The Pale Verdict
The ink was still wet on the parchment when the shouting began, a raw, tearing sound that cut through the heavy, dust-choked air of the scribe’s chamber. Elias did not look up from his task, his quill scratching a final, definitive line into the skin of a goat, the sound like a small bone breaking under a stone. Around him, the great hall of the Archive was in chaos, a storm of elbows and...
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