The Faded Alibi

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2026-08-23 20:01:44 -

The Faded Alibi

The banquet hall smelled of roasted goose and old stone. You stood in the corner, a scribe of forty-two years, watching Magistrate Vane laugh. He held a goblet of wine, his face ruddy and swollen with power, and he looked at you with the casual disdain of a man who owns the air you breathe. Your home, the house on Miller’s Lane, was gone. Vane had seized it for unpaid debts, debts you knew were...

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