The Golden Maze
The letter lay on the cold slate table, the ink still damp from the courier’s haste. It was a summons, or rather, a dismissal, signed by Lord Vane with a flourish that cost more in ink than my last three months’ wages. It informed me that my exile to the hinterlands was now permanent, effective immediately, and that I was to surrender my court physician’s seal by dusk. I folded the paper, the...
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