The Distant Temple
The rain fell on the capital like a grey shroud, slicking the cobblestones of the Old Quarter where the Ministry of Internal Stability kept its watchful eye. Elias Thorne walked with the heavy, rhythmic gait of a man who had spent thirty years measuring his steps against the rigid lines of order. He was a senior inspector, a man carved from the same stone as the buildings around him, his face a...
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