The Faded Alibi
The heavy wool of my tunic, once the deep, unyielding indigo of the royal guard, has frayed into a threadbare grey that matches the dust of the keep’s lower corridors. It clings to my shoulders like a second skin, worn thin by years of service and the relentless, invisible friction of duty. I stand alone in the shadowed alcove of the Great Hall, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and old...
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