The Pale Protocol
October 12, 1893 The coal dust in this house has a taste of iron and old blood. I have been a constable in Blackwood for twenty years, and in all that time, I have never seen the men so thin. The mines are flooding, the pay is three weeks behind, and the hunger in the village is a living thing that gnaws at the walls. I sit at my desk, the pension ledger open before me, the numbers stark and...
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