The Golden Harbor
The bell above the door did not ring; it clattered, a dry, bone-on-bone sound that hung in the stagnant air of the counting house. You looked up from the ledger, your fingers stained with the indigo ink of the Guild, and saw him standing in the threshold. Silas. He was thinner than you remembered, his face a map of creases drawn by wind and hunger, but his eyes held the same fierce, unblinking...
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