The Distant Crown
The fog sat heavy on the mill town of Blackwood. It clung to the brick. It soaked into the wool. It tasted of iron and old smoke. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the window. He watched the street. The street was empty. The gas lamps hissed. They cut weak halos into the gray. Thorne did not blink. His jaw was tight. His hands rested on the sill. They were steady. He was a man of order. He was a...
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