The Wistful Saga
The ledger sat on the desk, its spine cracked and soft with damp, and I counted the hours I had spent staring at the ink stains before the candle burned low. Three weeks of nights, three weeks of tracing the same lines of debt, trying to make the numbers align with the integrity the High Magistrate demanded. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-two, a senior constable in the County Hall, and my hands were...
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