The Golden Mirror
The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s did not ring at noon. It rang at the hour of the wolf, three in the morning, when the mist clung to the cobblestones of the old city like a wet shroud. Elias Vane sat in the dark of his study, the candle guttering in the draft. He was a man of the Empire, an auditor of the Crown’s accounts, a creature of ink and order. But tonight, the order had failed. On...
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