The Faded Masquerade
The seal was a circle of black wax, pressed with a heavy iron ring into the center of the parchment. It did not fade. It did not crack. It sat there, immovable as a star, watching me from the desk of the Lord Chancellor. "You look at it as if it were a wound," said Sir Julian. He was cleaning his fingernails with a small, sharp knife, the blade catching the candlelight in a thin, white line....
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