The Golden Suspect
The rain fell in sheets against the glass of the observation deck, blurring the harbor into a smear of grey and black. Elias Thorne stood with his back to the door, his hands clasped behind him, watching the water churn. He was a man of precise habits, a former cartographer for the Ministry of Internal Security, now a citizen of nowhere. The ship, the *Aethelgard*, was not merely a vessel; it...
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