The Faded Apartment
Act I In the treaty ports of the late nineteenth century, the wind did not blow; it stripped. Eilidh Fraser stood before the census taker’s desk, the wood scarred by decades of quill points, and felt the weight of the ledger before her. She was thirty-two, a junior archivist in the scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Gall, a place that had migrated with the trade diaspora to this rugged corner of...
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