The Wistful Dinner
The ledger was open on the desk before I even finished knocking, its pages thick and glistening with a wetness that had no business being in a room heated by a coal stove. I stood in the doorway, my breath misting in the cold air of the Guild office, watching the ink dry on the page with a slow, viscous creep that turned from a deep arterial red to a dull, matte black. The Guild Master, a man...
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