The Distant Crown
The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a persistent, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world against the windowpane of the office, where Martin Hale sat hunched over a ledger of numbers that meant nothing to him but everything to the institution that owned his life. He was a man of mid-years, his hair thinning to a fine, sandy dust, his spine curved into a question mark that he...
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