The Faded Ruin
The ledger was open. The ink was wet. "You are out of order," said Mr. Thorne. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. His voice was the sound of a heavy iron gate closing on a limb. "The shipment from the mill. It is missing." Silence filled the room. It was a thick, stale silence, the kind that hung in the air of the Great Hall after a sermon had ended and the congregation had...
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