The Golden Suspect
The parchment lay on the oak table, its edges curled from the damp air of the watchhouse, the ink smudged where a drop of rain had slipped through the cracked window. It was a formal complaint from the Merchant’s Guild, the letterhead heavy with the crest of a golden lion, and it named Elias Thorne, thirty-two years of service, as the primary suspect in the theft of the Guildmaster’s personal...
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