The Pale Exile
The parchment is cold, but your hand is not. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a scribe of the third rank, and you have been waiting for this moment for six years. The debt is on your ledger, a red ink stain that has eaten your family’s comfort and your father’s pride. One signature, one final edict, and the Crown’s grace will wipe the slate clean. You sit before the King, who does not sit but...
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