The Pale Verdict
Act I Krystyna Grabowski held the bone key in her left hand, the knuckles white against the wet wood of the table. She was thirty-four years old, a fact that felt less like an age and more like a debt she had failed to pay, and she had served the Tribunal for twelve years without a single recorded error. The midwinter feast was in full swing in the great hall of the old quarter, the air heavy...
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