The Pale Bonsai
"Did you water it?" the Chancellor asked, his voice a dry rustle of parchment, and I nodded, though my hands were empty and my pockets held only the weight of a single, cold coin. We stood in the antechamber of the High Keep, a place where the air tasted of iron and old dust, where the tapestries depicting the Great Harvest hung so low they brushed the cobblestones, their embroidered grains of...
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