The Golden Farce

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2026-08-21 20:57:16 -

The Golden Farce

The rain slicks the cobblestones of the city, turning them into black mirrors that reflect the gaslight in shattered shards. You stand at the threshold of the Great Hall, your hand resting on the cold iron of your sidearm. It is a weight you have carried for twenty years. The air smells of wet stone and old blood. Inside, the chandeliers burn with a low, amber glow. The architecture is...

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