The Golden Harbor
The debt was four hundred and twelve pounds, a number that hung over Elias Vane’s head like a suspended guillotine, calculated in ink on the ledger pages that smelled of iron filings and stale tobacco. He counted the hours until the Mayor’s contest, his fingers tracing the worn grooves of the desk in his father’s cramped office, a place that reeked of damp wool and the particular, sour sweat of...
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