The Distant Threshold
The ledger sat open on the oak table, its pages swollen with the weight of three hundred and twelve loaves of rye, forty-eight wheels of cheese, and the exact, agonizing sum of the town’s appetite, which Elias Thorne counted with the same cold precision he applied to sentencing thieves, his quill scratching a rhythm that felt less like writing and more like the ticking of a clock counting down...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews