The Faded Alibi
The letter from the Regional Tribunal lay on the table, its seal broken, the ink still wet with the authority of men who never had to lift a hammer or carry a sack of grain. Thomas Vane read it twice, the parchment heavy in his hands, feeling the weight of the paper itself as a physical burden, a small, dense stone of expectation. He was to go to the valley of St. Jude, find the man called...
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