The Golden Cellar
The rumor began in the canteen, a low hum that vibrated against the steel plates and the cold, grey light of November 1912. Arthur Vane sat with his back to the wall, his uniform pressed and immaculate, watching the steam rise from his tea. He was thirty years old, a guard of the Imperial Palace, a man who had given fifteen years of his life to the silent discipline of the corridors. He wanted...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews