The Wistful Incense
The candle flame in the infirmary of the Order of St. Jude did not flicker so much as it strained, a thin, yellow vein of light against the oppressive darkness of the stone walls. Brother Elias sat at the heavy oak desk, his hands trembling not from the chill that seeped through the floorboards but from the crushing, physical weight of the unpaid debts owed to the Order for his brother Thomas’s...
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