The Golden Visit
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey mist that clung to the stone facades of the Ministry of Internal Records. Silas Vane stood on the steps, his coat heavy with the damp, watching the last of his colleagues retreat into the warm, gas-lit corridors. He had come to say goodbye, or rather, to witness the finality of his departure. For three years, he had served as a...
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