The Wistful Throne
The rain had not fallen in the valley of Ockham for three days, a fact that was recorded not in the almanacs of the court but in the dry, cracked lips of the sheep and the way the dust rose in pale, ghostly columns from the muddy tracks leading to the stone keep, where Elias Thorne, the junior clerk of the Assize, sat alone in his cramped office, listening to the silence that pressed against...
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