The Faded Frontier
Venice in the year of our Lord 1342 was a city of wet stone and suspended commerce, where the air tasted of brine and the silence of the canals was heavier than the water itself. The looms in the silk town clattered in the damp morning, a rhythmic hammering that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards of the temple courtyard, where the dust motes hung suspended in the slant of light like...
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