The Wistful Dinner
The letter is sealed with wax. Black wax. It sits on the oak desk. You are a scribe. You are not a poet. You are not a prophet. You are a man who cuts words. You are a man who files them. You are a man who shapes them into the shape of power. The Duke wants a decree. The decree is against the guild. The guild is the weavers. The weavers are poor. The weavers are quiet. You have known them. You...
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