The Pale Tale
The parchment lay on the oak table, its edges yellowing with the damp of the cellar, and Elias Thorne smoothed it flat with a hand that had not known rest for three years, his fingers tracing the wax seal of the High Steward with a reverence that bordered on fear. The document was a bill of particulars, or so the clerk had called it, though in truth it was a list of sins, each itemized with the...
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