The Distant Legend

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2026-08-18 16:24:35 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended gray veil that smelled of wet iron and stale tobacco. Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of the square, his back against the cold stone of the town hall, his hands slick with mud and the warm, coppery slick of his own blood. He was not fighting anymore. The fight had ended three minutes ago, when the second constable’s baton...

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