The Distant Legend
The air in the chancellery was stale. It tasted of old paper and cold coffee. Marcus stood by the window. The glass was fogged. Outside, snow fell in heavy sheets. It buried the city in white. He watched it fall. He did not blink. His hands were clasped behind his back. They trembled slightly. He could feel the pulse in his wrist. It was fast. It was strong. He was a senior officer. He had worn...
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