The Golden Farce
The Great Hall of the Ministry of Arcane Compliance did not smell of dust or decay, as the romantics of the outer provinces might have imagined, but of ozone, hot copper, and the distinct, metallic tang of dried blood that had been scrubbed so thoroughly from the marble floors that it had seeped into the stone itself, a phantom scent that lingered in the nostrils of every junior clerk who...
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