The Distant Journey

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2026-08-22 18:29:29 -

The seal was red wax, cold and brittle in my palm. I held it up to the candlelight, turning it slowly, watching the grain of the wood grain beneath the translucent surface. It was a small thing, a disc of pressed tallow, but it carried the weight of the winter grain. Without it, the shipment was void. The ledger lay open on the desk, the ink wet and dark, smelling of iron and wet earth. I was...

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