The Pale Letter

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2026-08-22 09:31:20 -

The Pale Letter

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and old stone, the air thick with the sweat of three hundred nobles and the metallic tang of the King’s decay. I stood in the shadows near the service entrance, watching King Aldric lean heavily on the arm of his throne, his skin the color of wet ash, his eyes darting with a fever that no physician could name. My tenure depended on the vial in my...

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