The Winter of the Summit
(Variant V-01: Victorian Melancholy) The fog of London in 1884 did not merely cling to the cobblestones; it seeped into the very marrow of one's bones, a grey shroud that muted the screams of the street hawkers and the clatter of hansom cabs. Arthur stood by the mahogany window of his study in Belgravia, watching the city dissolve into a smudge of charcoal. He was the most powerful man in the...
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