The Distant Clue
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey veil that muted the sounds of the manor house. Thomas Ashworth stood in the center of the great hall, his back to the stone arches, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword that felt heavier than steel. He was a man of the law, a constable of the old guard, but in this place, the law had forgotten his name. The walls were...
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