The Faded Sutra
The order was a slip of parchment, thin as onion skin, stamped with the waxy seal of the Watch. It read: *Arrest Thomas Vane for the theft of the Silver Chalice. Report to the Captain’s office by noon.* I held it under the lamplight. The ink was still wet, glistening like a bruise. Outside, the shadow of the town hall stretched across the cobblestones, pointing directly at my door. It had...
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