The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-24 05:47:49 -

The Wistful Petal

The feast of Duke Aldric was a cacophony of silver and sweat, the air thick with the smell of roasted boar and the sharper, metallic tang of old blood. Elias stood at the edge of the hall, his fingers twitching against the leather of his satchel, where the parchment that had damned him lay folded like a dead bird. He was a scribe, a man of ink and silence, but tonight the silence had a pulse, a...

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