The Distant Joke
The ink on the parchment had not yet dried when the Grand Chancellor’s gavel struck the oak table, a sharp, dry crack that silenced the murmuring of the court scribes and froze the candlelight in the high vaulted hall. Thomas Bradshaw, sixteen and trembling with a hunger that was less about food and more about survival, watched the seal being pressed into the wax, a finality that felt heavier...
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