The Golden Suspect
The parchment is damp, the ink still wet with the cold of the vault where it was kept, and your fingers tremble as you unfold the document that will end your life. You are Elias, forty-two, a clerk of the Third Chamber, and the paper in your hands is not a bill for wine, nor a list of grain, but a charge of treason against your son, Julian. The morning air in the corridor is thin, biting at...
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