The Faded Alibi
The seal of the Order of the Silver Hand was not merely a symbol; it was a weight of lead and iron, cold against the palm, heavy with the accumulated sins of those who had worn it before. You held it in the center of the great hall, your fingers white-knuckled, the metal biting into the skin as if trying to claim your flesh for its own. The air in the chamber was thick, stale with the scent of...
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