The Golden Quest
My father, I write this by the light of a tallow candle that has burned down to a wick, the wax pooling on the slate table like congealed blood, and I am telling you that I am dead. You will not believe me. You are a King, and Kings do not believe that their physicians, their servants, their sons, can lie to them, because to believe that would be to admit that the machinery of your state is...
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