The Pale Protocol
Act I My hands shook as I broke the seal on the registry box, the wax crumbling like dry skin under my thumb. The date was March 12, 1911, and the air in the opium registry office tasted of dust and old fear. I am Usman Ahmed, a constable with a lapsed professional license and a name that no longer meant anything in this walled city. The Inspector wanted the herbal decoctions confiscated,...
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