The Golden Maze
The letter lay on the oak desk, its seal broken, the ink still wet in the grooves. It was a termination notice, or rather, a non-renewal, written in the dry, bureaucratic hand of the High Warden. Elias Thorne read it twice, then folded it into his satchel with the care of a man packing away a broken tool. He was thirty-two, a court cartographer of middling rank, and he had nine days left to...
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