Chapter 40 · for subscribers
No knife, no cup, no assassin on a roof. A stick of good wood with a bad heart, requisitioned out of my own stores in my own name, to be lit by a rite official in front of three hundred witnesses while the only two doors in the empire that matter are both shut. The cleverest murders in this house have never needed a murderer in the room.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.