The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 07:10:15 -

The Pale Exile

The ink was still wet on the parchment when I saw the steward’s face in the gatehouse window. I had been copying the Duke’s pardon for three days, my quill scratching against the grain, my left hand buried deep inside a leather glove that smelled of old sweat and tallow. The letter was simple. It granted Mara, my wife, the right to remain in the village of Oakhaven despite the winter curfew. It...

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