The Distant Clue
The call came from the stairs, a sharp, barking summons that cut through the low, industrial hum of the city settling into the foundation stones of the Imperial Archives. Arthur Vane did not look up from the desk. He was forty years old, a linguist by trade and a prisoner by circumstance, and he was staring at a piece of lead that weighed nothing and everything. It was the seal, broken in the...
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