The Wistful Incense
The iron stylus lies heavy in your palm, its tip worn smooth by forty years of grinding the same hard truths into soft vellum. You are Elias, the Head Scribe of the Abbey of St. Jude, and you are forty years old, though the ache in your lower back and the permanent stain of gall ink beneath your fingernails make you feel as though you have been dying for a decade. The Great Book of Hours sits...
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