The Pale Verdict
The rain does not fall so much as it settles, a grey suspension that coats the cobblestones of the Old Quarter in a slick, silent sheen. You walk through it, your boots heavy with the mud of a place that has forgotten how to dry. You are here to inspect. That is the title of your office, though it feels more like a verdict you have already passed upon yourself. The institution, the Grand Bureau...
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