The Golden Crossing
The count was precise, the weight absolute, and the silence in the Mint Tower was so thick it felt like a physical substance pressing against the eardrums. You had weighed the alloy three times, each measurement recorded in the ledger with a quill that scraped against the parchment with a sound like dry leaves skittering over stone. The King’s command hung in the air, not as a shout, but as a...
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