The Golden Visit

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2026-08-21 09:40:15 -

The Golden Visit

The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the capital into slick, black mirrors that reflected the gas lamps in trembling, yellow fragments. I stood at the gate of the Whitehall, my uniform wet through to the skin, the weight of my sidearm a dull, familiar anchor against my hip. My name is Thomas Bradshaw, and I was not here for the ceremony, nor for the applause that...

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