The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-24 17:03:00 -

My hands were already stained with ink when the Duke’s secretary arrived, the smell of wet wool and coal smoke clinging to his coat as he stepped into the soot-choked hall. I was mid-stroke, tracing the final curve of a binding sigil on the parchment, my fingers numb from the cold that seeped through the floorboards of the barracks. The humidity had swollen the wooden doors of the semaphore...

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