The Wistful Show
Elias. You are late for the ledger review. Lord Vane’s voice cut through the smell of mildew and old paper that hung thick in the archive. I stood up, my knees cracking, and straightened my waistcoat. The room was dim, lit by a single gas lamp that buzzed like an angry wasp trapped in glass. Dust motes swirled in the beam, thick as snow. My lord, I am here. I have come to request access to the...
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