The Wistful Mirror
I. You do not keep a voice; you spend it. That is the rule of the Whispering Fog, and I have spent mine on a lie to save my brother, Konrad, from the gallows. I am Friedrich Hoffmann, an excise man by trade, though my wages have been in arrears for three years. The debt is not just money; it is the weight of the deed to my house, written in a dead language I can no longer read. I hold the...
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