The Golden Farce
The fog rolled off the harbor in thick, gray ribbons, swallowing the iron hulls of the steamships and the skeletal masts of the older schooners, until the world outside the dock felt like a rumor rather than a place. Silas Thorne stood at the edge of the pier, his boots sinking slightly into the wet, rotting planks, and watched the last of the cargo crews disappear into the mist. He was a man...
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