The Pale Verdict
The parchment was heavy, the kind of vellum that felt less like paper and more like dried skin under the thumb. You held it in your left hand, the one that had carried the weight of the kingdom’s judgment for twenty years, while your right hand rested on the hilt of your sword, not out of necessity, but out of habit. The seal was pale, a waxy disc of bone-white that seemed to absorb the grey...
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