The Golden Farce
The rain did not fall so much as it seeped, a persistent, cold mist that clung to the high walls of the tower and the heavy stone floor where Elias sat, his back against the unlit fireplace, watching the water bead and slide down the glass of the windowpane with the slow, deliberate patience of a man who has long since stopped counting the hours of his life. He was an old man, or perhaps he...
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