The Pale Verdict
The parchment was heavy, weighted with the wax seal of the Imperial Guard, and the ink was still wet when Elias Thorne broke it open in the Emperor’s private dining hall. He read the words twice, the scent of roasted pheasant and rosemary cloying in his nostrils, masking the faint, metallic tang that had been sitting on his tongue since the morning. You wanted the promotion to Marshal, the one...
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