The Distant Crown
The rain fell in sheets of grey iron, hammering against the leaded panes of the high tower. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and old parchment, a smell that had seeped into the very stones of the Hall of Saint Jude over three centuries. Elias stood by the cold hearth, his hands wrapped around a clay cup that held only water. The vessel was chipped at the rim, its surface...
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