The Distant Affair

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2026-08-23 10:53:09 -

The ink on the page is wet. It should have dried an hour ago, but it glistens like a fresh wound, a dark bead trembling on the parchment as I watch it. I am twelve years old, and my hands shake so violently that the quill scratches a jagged line through the name of the Duke of Northumberland. The Master, a man whose face is as hard and grey as the stone walls of the High Court, leans over my...

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