The Golden Circuit
The quill scraped against the parchment with a sound like a dry twig snapping, the ink bleeding slightly into the coarse fiber of the paper as Sir Elias Thorne’s hand trembled, not from the cold that seeped through the stone floor of the guard’s alcove, but from the weight of the secret he had carried for three years. He looked down at the ledger page he had copied, the numbers stark and...
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