The Golden Master
The ink on the ledger is still wet, a glossy, black smear that defies the dry, dusty air of the scriptorium, and you stare at it not with the reverence of a scribe but with the cold, calculating gaze of a detective who has just found the first thread in a tangled web. You are Thomas, a junior archivist in the monastery of Saint Aldhelm, a place where the air tastes of beeswax and old stone,...
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