The Golden Farce
The glass was heavy, cut crystal that caught the amber light of the chandelier and fractured it into a dozen trembling stars. Elias Thorne held it with hands that shook, not from fear, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the moment. He was forty-two, a man who had once sat on the bench and handed down sentences that felt like iron bars, now standing in the gilded dining hall of Magistrate...
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