The Golden Farce
The jar sat on the counter. It was glass. Thick, heavy glass. Inside, a slurry of amber and grey. Rot. I looked at it. It looked at me. My name is Arthur. I was a man of trade. Of careful hands. Of precise calculations. The town of Oakhaven knew me as the Restorer. I fixed what was broken. Watches. Clocks. The old iron gates at the church. I did not fix people. That was the rule. The rule was...
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