The Pale Tale
The fog rolled off the river, thick as wool, swallowing the cobblestones of Oakhaven. Elias Thorne tightened his leather belt, the strap cutting into his ribs, and stepped over the threshold of the old granary. He had served twelve years in the city watch, a time long enough to know the weight of the uniform but not long enough to earn the pension that would keep him from the workhouse....
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