The Golden Circuit
The lilies in the east wing are blooming again, and if you press your ear to the damp plaster, you can hear them whispering in Old High German, which is a bit much for a Tuesday evening, isn’t it? I am writing this from the high table in Lord Vane’s study, a chair that costs more than my entire exile, and I must tell you, I am thriving. You know how I am. I do not tolerate sentiment, and I...
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