The Golden Farce
The document is sealed, Major. Do not open it until you are in the presence of the Crown. Elias Thorne held the cylinder of brass and wax steady, his fingers wrapped around the cold metal as if it were a rifle stock. The carriage outside rattled over the cobblestones of King Aldric’s industrialized capital, a city that smelled of sulfur, wet coal, and the metallic tang of new steel. Thorne was...
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