The Golden Farce

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2026-08-24 18:58:55 -

The Golden Farce

The ink was already dry before I reached for the quill, a fact that unsettled me more than the cold, for the Liber Aureus had not been finished, and the winter solstice was three days away, and the fog outside the Abbey of Saint Jude had stopped the boats, leaving the polder silent and the market scales rusted shut. I am Bastiaan de Vries, a scribe of thirty-two years, and I have spent the last...

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