The Golden Mirror
The paper was thin, translucent, stained at the corners with the damp of the cellar where it had lain for three years. Elias held it against the light of the single tallow candle, his fingers trembling not from the cold but from the weight of the ink. It was a requisition form, unsigned, detailing the loss of one golden hand-mirror, property of Sergeant Thomas Ashworth, dated the day before the...
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