The Distant Cartograph
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the central square into a slick, black mirror that reflected the gray, weeping sky above. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the center of the square, his back to the stone wall of the Old Parliament building, his hands resting loosely at his sides. He was a large man, broad-shouldered and heavy-handed, with a face that had been...
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