The Puppeteer of Whitehall
The corridors of Whitehall were lined with portraits of men who had died for the Empire, their eyes following every visitor with a cold, painted judgment. Julian walked among them, a ghost in a perfectly tailored frock coat. He had returned to London not as a conqueror of lands, but as a conquerer of secrets. He had discovered that the world was not run by laws or morals, but by a series of...
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