The Wistful Atlas
The ledger weighed three pounds and four ounces, a heavy thing for a man whose hands were beginning to fail him. Elias Thorne stood before the High Warden of the Iron Gate, the smell of damp wool and old iron filling the air before the sight of the man behind the desk even registered. He had counted the hours since Julian’s arrest; forty-eight hours, precisely, measured by the ticking of the...
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