The Wistful Skyline
The letter from the Guild Master lay on the cold stone of the scaffolding, its seal broken, the ink still wet with the urgency of a man who had run out of patience, and Arthur Vane read it for the third time, his hands trembling so violently that the paper fluttered like a leaf caught in a draft, while the smell of wet lime and rotting wood hung heavy in the air, masking the scent of the fear...
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