The Faded Shield
The letter lay on the mahogany desk, its edges crisp against the grain, bearing the seal of the Ironworks Board of Directors and the ink still wet with the scent of chemical urgency. Elias Thorne, foreman of the Third Shift, read the memorandum twice, his eyes tracing the bureaucratic precision of the language that stripped him of his authority over the blast furnace sector, a decision signed...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews