The Golden Circuit
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, tucked inside a wax-sealed envelope that had been traveling for three months through the muddy, rain-slicked roads of the lowlands. It was not a summons to court, nor a writ of execution, but a simple, folded sheet of parchment bearing the seal of the Grand Duke’s private apothecary. Sir Elias Thorne, the Duke’s most trusted and weary steward, held the paper in...
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