The Golden Circuit

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2026-08-23 12:18:14 -

1482, 12th of October. The King’s study smells of wet wool and old iron. I am standing before the desk, my hand trembling so violently that I can barely keep my fingers from knocking over the inkwell. "You will discard the shard," the Chancellor says, his voice low and smooth as oiled leather. "It is a curse." I look at him. He is a large man, his face ruddy and flushed with the heat of the...

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