The Distant Promise
The letter sat on the magistrate’s desk, its seal broken, the ink still wet with the weight of accusation. I held the other side of the conversation in my teeth, a forged ledger clutched in my left hand, my right hand steady on the table’s edge. Magistrate Aldous Vane did not look up immediately; he was counting coins in a small brass tray, the sound a dry, rhythmic rattle that seemed to drown...
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