The Faded Masquerade
The parchment lay on the workbench, its edges curling in the cold air, bearing the Duke’s seal and a sum that would buy a house, a family, a life. Elias read the terms twice, the ink still wet with the threat of the ledger’s balance. He was a glassblower, a craftsman of light and silica, and he had not slept in three days. The debt to the crown was not merely money; it was a noose tightened by...
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