The Wistful Dinner
The road to the capital was a ribbon of red clay that stretched out before Elias Thorne like a wound in the earth, and he walked it with the heavy, deliberate steps of a man who had learned that speed was a luxury he could no longer afford, his pack resting on his back with the weight of a decade’s accumulated silence. He was a scholar of the old texts, a man who had spent his life in the dusty...
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