The Golden Suspect
The air in the Sub-Basement Archive did not smell of dust, but of wet iron and old, stagnant breath. Elias Thorne adjusted his spectacles, the glass lenses fogging slightly in the chill, and reached for the leather-bound ledger on the third shelf. It was a routine task, the cataloging of the Dominion’s financial records from the previous century, a job that had consumed his life for the last...
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