The Distant Legend
The train did not stop in the small hours, but it slowed as it crested the ridge, a heavy, groaning beast that seemed to know the weight of what it carried. Thomas Bradshaw sat in the corner of the second-class carriage, his uniform pressed and buttoned to the chin, though the fabric had begun to smell of sweat and old tobacco long before the journey had started. Beside him, in a separate seat,...
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