The Wistful Skyline
The rain did not fall so much as it accumulated, a slow, viscous layering of grey water against the leaded panes of the Chancellery, a bureaucratic deluge that turned the view of the ancient courtyard into a blurred, impressionistic smear of slate and moss. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool, old parchment, and the metallic tang of anxiety that always preceded the weekly...
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