The Pale Tower
The letter lay on the table, its seal broken, the paper yellowing at the edges where the candlelight caught the ink. You read it twice, the second time slower, the words blurring not from age but from the strange, static pressure that had settled in your ears since you stepped off the carriage. It was a demand for payment, six hundred pounds, owed to the men of the city who had held your debts...
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