The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-19 08:32:57 -

The bell tolled. It was a low, bronze sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones. I stood on the stone steps of the Abbey, my hands trembling in the cold. I had traveled for three days. My boots were ruined. My cloak was mud. But I had come. I had come to see the Master. I was a scribe. A minor one. I copied psalters by candlelight. My ink was cheap. My paper was rough. But I was...

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