The Golden Farce

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2026-08-21 16:01:05 -

The Golden Farce

"Strip the gold, Thomas." The voice was wet. A cough. The wind outside howled against the shutters of the watchtower, a low, mournful sound that seemed to come from the bones of the earth itself. Thomas did not move. He stood by the window, his back to the man. The moonlight cut a sharp line across the floorboards. It illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air. They swirled like tiny...

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