The Faded Alibi
The frost bit through your boots before the Duke’s gate even opened. You were Thomas, thirty-two, a constable with a hollow chest and a heavier heart. You wanted the winter ration of grain. You needed it to keep Elara alive. The opposing force was not the cold, but the Duke’s hoarding. Inside the great hall, the air smelled of roasted meat and old money. Duke Aldric sat on the high seat, a...
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