The Wistful Incense
The parchment was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of the tallow used to seal the wax. Sir Aldric held it in his gloved hands, the texture rough against his skin, feeling the weight of the lie he had spent three days crafting. It was a royal pardon, forged in the script of the Chancellor, bearing the seal of the King himself. He needed it to buy his wife Elara out of the debtors’...
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