The Guilded Quill

In the Empire, scandal travels faster than plague. And far warmer than it ought. When Oskin the Lesser attempts to steal a legendary blade from the Imperial Vault, he instead grasps something far more dangerous: Swabbrandir, the Endless Wipe—a mop forged in the sudsy crucibles of the Third Age, cursed or blessed with Eternal Purification. Wherever it passes, grime flees in terror, wax budgets collapse, and entire departments of licensed scrub wardens are rendered professionally obsolete. But that is only the beginning. As enchanted sanitation sweeps through the palace, a blind kitchen maid is executed for “aggressive familiarity,” a self-enchanted archmage blames parsnips for his indiscretions, a baron courts a marble bust of his own aunt, and, inexplicably, pears begin appearing in boots across the capital. Warm. Unrequested. Watching. Told through the razor-edged columns of The Guilded Quill 2333 , this absurdist court chronicle skewers monarchy, magic, moral panic, and bureaucratic incompetence with surgical politeness and relentless wit. Because in an empire obsessed with appearances, the greatest threat is not corruption. It’s cleanliness.

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