The Faded Paradox
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the High Court into a slick, weeping mirror that reflected the grey sky and the heavy, brooding silhouettes of the guards. You stand in the shadow of the archway, your fingers trembling slightly around the handle of your leather satchel. It is not a weapon, though it looks like one to the untrained eye. Inside, wrapped in...
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