The Distant Crown
The ledger held three hundred and twelve entries, each one a debt, each one a life, and each one a nail in the coffin of the town’s soul. You counted them again, your finger tracing the ink on the brittle paper, the smell of coal dust and old varnish hanging thick in the air of the magistrate’s office. Outside, the wind howled against the glass, a low, continuous moan that sounded like the town...
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