The Pale Exile
The ledger showed forty-one hours of unpaid labor. Thomas Ashworth counted them again, his finger tracing the ink lines on the damp paper. Forty-one hours. At the union rate, that was three hundred and twenty-seven dollars. He had not seen a cent. The cellar of the manor house smelled of wet stone and old copper, a cold that seeped into the marrow of his bones despite the heavy coat he wore. He...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews