The Faded Chronicle
The letter from Magistrate Alder sat on the kitchen table, its seal broken, the paper yellowed with damp. I read it three times, each time the words sharpening into a blade. "Your claim to the Ashworth estate is denied due to foreign origin and lack of verifiable lineage," it said, the ink smudged where Alder’s thumb had rested. I was forty-two, a scribe in exile, living in a house that was...
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