The Faded Frequency
October 14, 1892. The rain has not stopped for three days. It taps against the high windows of the High Court of Aethelgard like a thousand impatient fingers, a sound that drills into my teeth. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, a scribe of the fourth rank, and I am here to beg for my son, Arthur. He is twelve. He sits in the Debtors’ Ward, a place of damp stone and rotting straw,...
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