The Distant Clue

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2026-08-18 14:35:48 -

The Distant Clue

The fire in the hearth of the manor house did not burn with wood. It burned with silence. Arthur Penhaligon sat at the head of the long oak table, his hands resting flat on the polished surface. They were the hands of a clerk, thin and precise, accustomed to the weight of quills and the texture of parchment. But tonight, they trembled. The air in the Great Hall was thick, not with smoke, but...

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