The Pale Bonsai
The seal of the Kingdom of Aethelgard was red wax, cracked and brittle, pressed onto the parchment that Sir Aldric held in his gloved hands. He stood in the Great Hall, the stone floor cold through his boots, listening to the drip of condensation from the vaulted ceiling into the troughs below. The decree was brief: Thomas of the Lower Ward, thief, sentenced to hang for the crime of stealing a...
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