The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-19 05:42:02 -

The Pale Bonsai

The banquet hall smells of roasted boar and stale wine, a heavy, cloying scent that clings to the back of your throat like a secret you are too polite to speak. You sit at the far end of the long oak table, your hands folded in your lap, fingers stained with ink from the manuscripts you have been copying by candlelight while the rest of the estate feasts in the warmth of the hearth. The air is...

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