The Distant Crown
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the Blackwood estate, a relentless, industrial rhythm that matched the thrum of the coal furnaces in the basement. I stood by the window in the study, my hand resting on the hilt of my service pistol. The weapon was heavy. It was the only thing in the house that felt real. My wife, Elara, sat in the wingback chair...
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