The Pale Protocol
The debt is due on the first of November, and the magistrate’s clerk has already sent a notice to the orphanage, the paper thin as a shroud, the ink dry and final. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, and I have spent the last three weeks in the lower archives of Aethelgard, my fingers stained with the soot of a thousand extinguished candles, searching for a way to save the children from...
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