The Golden Scar
Oscar Hebert had spent thirty years in the Citadel, which meant he had spent thirty years learning that the walls were not made of stone but of paperwork, and that the only way out was through a form he had never been allowed to file. He sat in the high chamber, the air stale and heavy with the dust of unopened archives, while the Archivist, a man named Deschamps who wore his authority like a...
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