The Pale Verdict
The parchment lay on the oak table, its edges curled slightly from the damp air of the apothecary. Thomas Hale read the ledger entry again, the ink still wet, recording the final payment of his family’s debt to the Crown. He signed his name with a steady hand, the quill scratching softly against the vellum, and felt the weight of three years of service lift from his shoulders. The smell of...
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