The Golden Harbor
The ledger weighed four pounds, six ounces, and a lifetime of suspicion in Arthur Vane’s left hand, the leather cover cracked and soft as wet skin from the dampness of the train ride. He had counted the hours of the journey, seven in the dark, seven in the grey, and now the town of Blackwater sat before him, a jagged silhouette of brick and iron against a sky the color of old blood. The smell...
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