The Wistful Saga
The iron gate groaned against the frost as Thomas Bradshaw stepped out of the carriage, leaving his past in the dust of the London streets. He was a man carved from the same hard stone as the city’s spires, a Senior Constable of the Metropolitan Police with a spine that had not bent since he first took the oath. In his left hand, he carried a single object: a heavy, ornate brass lantern. It was...
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