The Wistful Dinner
The carriage wheels ground against the cobblestones of the High Street, a harsh, grinding shriek that seemed to tear the air open, as Elias Thorne stepped down into the damp mist that clung to the foundations of the Guild Hall like a second skin. He carried the leather satchel in which he kept his most precious instruments, the heavy brass calipers and the set of fine steel files that he had...
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