The Golden Downtown
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the Old Quarter into slick, black mirrors reflecting the gaslight and the weary faces of the men who patrolled them. Silas Vane stood on the corner of Merchant Street, his collar turned up against the damp chill, his hand resting not on his pistol but on the hilt of the ceremonial saber that...
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