The Wistful Witness
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, bearing the seal of the Royal Archive, its ink still wet with the scent of lavender and old dust. It was addressed to you, Master Aldric, but the tone was one of finality, a severance of ties that had been woven for forty years. You read it twice, the parchment trembling slightly in your hands, not from the cold that seeped through the stone walls of your study,...
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