The Golden Suspect
Thorne, the clerk bellowed from the high window of the magistrate’s office, a voice that carried the dry, papery rasp of someone who had spent too many hours reading aloud from dusty ledgers. Elias Thorne stood in the queue outside the fortified walls of Oakhaven, the year 1240 pressing down on him like a heavy wool cloak, his hands clasped behind his back where they itched with the damp cold...
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