The Pale Protocol
The letter smells of iron and damp wool. You hold it in your gloved hands. The paper is thick, heavy stock. It does not tear easily. You have been folding and unfolding it for three days. The creases are sharp now. They bite your fingers. You are a man who builds things. You build clocks. You build the gears that keep time for the city. You are precise. You are quiet. You do not shout. You do...
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