The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-20 21:27:22 -

The Faded Alibi

The iron was hot. It always was. I held the pommel, my knuckles white, the leather sweating against my palm. The man in front of me, a scribe from the lower hall, did not fight back. He only looked at me with eyes that had seen too much paper and not enough sky. I raised the blade. The air in the courtyard was thick with the smell of wet stone and fear. My arm shook. It was a small tremor, but...

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