The Golden Master
The train hissed to a halt in the grey drizzle, the sound sharp and sudden against the damp silence of the platform, and Elias Thorne stepped onto the wet gravel with a heavy leather satchel in his hands, the weight of it pulling at his shoulder as if it contained not just papers and tools but the very marrow of his bones. He looked up at the imposing brick facade of the Halloway & Sons Textile...
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