The Golden Suspect

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 08:26:07 -

The train smelled of wet wool and stale coffee. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the rain blurred the passing fields into a gray smear. I was going to London. Or rather, I was going to the Palace. The King’s residence. The seat of power. I was a clockmaker. A minor one, from a minor town. But I had a commission. A strange, heavy, golden commission. My father had left me...

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