The Golden Farce
The morning light fell in pale, sterile strips across the oak desk, illuminating the dust motes dancing above the ledger of the late Duke of Vane, and I watched them settle with the slow, inevitable gravity of a man who has spent twenty years calculating the weight of silence. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior auditor for the Imperial Revenue Service, and my hands, which have counted the...
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