The Faded Attic
The parchment was brittle, its edges crumbling into a fine grey dust that settled on Sir Aldric’s roughspun tunic as he held it up to the weak light of the dawn. It was a letter of accusation, sealed with the red wax of the King’s Marshal, and the ink, though faded, still held the sharp, bureaucratic cadence of the court: *For the crime of treason, the withholding of justice, and the protection...
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