The Distant Journey
14 September 1492 I have counted the stitches in the leather binding of the new ledger three times, and each time I find one hundred and forty-four, a number that feels too small for the weight of the debt it holds. The scribe’s room smells of oak gall and damp stone, a scent that has seeped into my skin so deeply that I can taste the tannin on my tongue when I speak. Lord Vane stands by the...
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