The Wistful Silence
You count the hours until dawn: three hours, forty-two minutes. You count the steps to the Head Archivist’s office: one hundred and twelve. You count the coins in your pocket, the copper pence that will not buy back a reputation, and the silence in the vault grows heavier with each tally. The air in the Imperial Archive is not merely cold; it is a physical weight, pressing against the back of...
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