The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-19 19:18:02 -

The Faded Alibi

The banquet hall of the Citadel of St. Jude smelled of roasted boar, wax, and the sharp, metallic tang of impending ruin. It was a night of high celebration, the kind that preceded the breaking of bones, and the air was thick with the weight of unspoken truths. Julian Thorne, the Royal Archivist, sat at the far end of the long oak table, his fingers stained with ink that no amount of lye could...

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