The Distant Cartograph
The fog sat heavy on the valley floor, a thick, gray wool that swallowed the world beyond the immediate reach of my hand. I stood at the window of the high office, watching the mist curl around the iron girders of the new railway bridge, a skeletal beast stretching across the gorge. Inside, the air was stale, smelling of beeswax and the sharp, metallic tang of heated ink. Lord Ashworth stood...
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