The Distant Blade
The notice lay on the desk, its edges curling in the dry heat of the archive, bearing the seal of the High Court and the date of the autumn solstice. It was a standard reassignment order, unsigned, waiting for my initial, but I did not sign it. I held the paper against the light, watching the ink bleed slightly into the fiber, a small, dark stain spreading like a bruise, while the black sap on...
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