The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-19 02:28:21 -

The rain in Harrowgate did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey mist that clung to the wool of Edward Ashworth’s coat and the glass of the library windows. He stood at the head of the long table, his fingers tracing the spine of a volume on maritime law, though his eyes were fixed on the clock. It was a heavy, brass beast, ticking with a patience that felt almost malicious. Edward...

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