The Distant Affair
The cellar was cold. The air tasted of damp stone and old roots. You stood before the stone table. The mortar and pestle were white marble. They were clean. They were waiting. You were the Keeper. You had held this title for forty years. The village of Oakhaven did not know your name. They knew only the function. You were the vessel for the Law. The Law was not written in books here. It was...
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