The Pale Verdict
The bell above the door of the General Hall in the county seat of Kilkenny rang with a dry, metallic clatter that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of your bones, a sound so sharp and final that it silenced the low hum of the clerks’ murmuring and the rhythmic scratching of steel nibs on parchment. You stood in the entryway, your coat damp from the sleet that had been falling since dawn, a...
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