The Golden Farce
The ink in the ledger was still wet, a dark, viscous smear that seemed to absorb the light of the tallow candle rather than reflect it, and I sat there in the high, cold office of the Inquisitor’s court, my fingers trembling not from the chill that seeped through the stone walls of this ancient, crumbling fortress, but from the sudden, terrifying recognition of the face staring back at me from...
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