The Golden Farce
The fog in Millhaven did not so much settle over the town as it invaded it, a thick, grey wool that smelled of wet coal and rotting cabbage, suffocating the gas lamps until they burned with a sickly, jaundiced flicker. Silas Vane moved through this murk with the deliberate, heavy grace of a man who had long since stopped fighting the elements and had instead learned to let them fight him. He...
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