The Golden Master
The hand is wrong. It is the first thing you notice, before the smell of the linoleum or the damp chill that seeps through the floorboards of the Royal Training Hall. Arthur Vane stands in the center of the strip, his left hand trembling, a fine, high-frequency shiver that makes the foil look like a vibrating wire. He is twenty-four years old, a master fencer for the Imperial Guard, and he has...
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