The Pale Tale
The candlelight in the Duke’s archive was not warm; it was a pale, accusing glare that stripped the dust from the air and held it suspended in the cold. You are Elias, thirty-two, a junior clerk who has spent nine years cataloging the debts and lineages of the Ashworth estate, and your hands tremble not from the chill but from the weight of the parchment in your satchel. You want security. You...
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