The Pale Tower
"You’ve got a smudge on your sleeve, Elias. Wipe it before you touch the paper." The voice was low, a rasp of gravel under a layer of dust, but the command was absolute, carrying the weight of twenty years of service to the Oakhaven Milling Company. Arthur Thorne did not look up from his ledger, his head bent low over the desk, the lamp casting a long, thin shadow across his face. He was a...
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