The Golden Visit
The parchment lay on the table, its edges brittle as dried skin, and Elias Thorne read the summons for the third time, his fingers tracing the wax seal that had cost the treasury six pence in red ochre. It was a standard draft notice, the kind that arrived every autumn like a tax bill, but this one bore the High Justiciar’s personal mark, a heavy black sigil that meant no appeal would be heard....
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