The Faded Masquerade
The parchment lay on the oak table, its edges curled like dried leaves, bearing the seal of the Crown and the ink of the Lord Chancellor’s office. It was a list of debts, a tally of grain shortfalls, and a final notice of forfeiture for Blackwood Manor, the paper trembling slightly in the draft that seeped under the heavy oak door. I read it three times, my fingers tracing the lines of debt...
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