The Golden Circuit
The ink would not dry. It sat on the surface of the gold plate, a wet, black pool that defied the laws of the workshop. Elias Thorne watched it with the hollow patience of a man who had been waiting for rain that would not come. He was forty-two, a master engraver at the Sterling Mint, and in three days, the Golden Circuit would be due. The commission was the only thing standing between him and...
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