The Wistful Silence
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the King’s Road into a slick, treacherous mirror that reflected the grey, weeping sky and the towering, jagged silhouette of the Guild Hall, a place where I had spent the better part of my life polishing other men’s reputations until they gleamed with a false, cold light. I am Thomas, a man of no great station, merely a clerk...
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