The Wistful Crossroads
The gavel strikes the mahogany block with a sound like a bone snapping, and you are already moving, your hand clamped around the hilt of the ceremonial dagger that is not a weapon but a symbol, a piece of brass and bone that has cost you your reputation, your sanity, and your freedom. The courtroom is not a courtroom. It is the Grand Hall of the Ministry of Cultural Preservation, a vast,...
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