The Keeper of Blackfriars
I am Arthur Winchester, thirty-two years old and accomplished of nothing. I sit each morning at a desk in the financial district, copying numbers into ledgers that will outlive me by perhaps a decade, while the men above me in the towers of Threadneedle Street purchase something I can never afford: two hundred additional years of life. They call it the Perpetual Tincture. An alchemical...
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