The Wistful Throne
The ledger weighed four pounds, a dense block of leather and paper that Elias Thorne carried from the desk to the shelf and back again, counting the hours in the creak of the floorboards. It was the third of November, 1912, and the air in the Vane Estate library tasted of dust and old ink, a dryness that cracked the skin of his lips. He was thirty-two, a clerk of no particular distinction, and...
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