The Distant Clue
The rain in the city of Saint-Cloud does not fall so much as it hangs, a cold, grey veil that presses against the high, narrow windows of the Inquisition’s archive, blurring the world outside into a smear of mud and stone. You are Elias, forty years old, your joints stiff with the damp and the weight of a decade spent hunching over parchment, and you are alone with the final, damning letter...
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