The Golden Quest
"You think I’m going to sign that?" The voice of the High Minister, Monsieur Valcourt, hung in the air of the Hall of Whispers, heavy as the burnt paper that filled the room. I stood before him, my hands trembling not from fear, but from the obsessive weight of my father’s memory. He had died in the mines, his lungs clogged with iron dust, and I had spent ten years hiding the truth of what that...
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