The Distant Journey
The heavy wool cloak of the Inquisitor’s lieutenant, Thomas Bradshaw, hangs on the hook by the door, its velvet lining worn thin by years of damp cold and the weight of secrets, a garment that seems to breathe with a life of its own as you watch it sway gently in the draft that leaks through the ancient stone walls of the interrogation chamber. You are not here to be interrogated, though the...
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