The Pale Circus
The parchment lay on the stone table, its edges curling in the damp air of the infirmary. Brother Elias read the Abbot’s decree twice, his fingers trembling not from cold but from the sheer weight of the paper itself. It stated clearly, in the precise, bureaucratic Latin of the order, that the infirmary’s budget had been exhausted and that all non-essential personnel were to be reassigned to...
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