The Distant Affair
The rain had not stopped for three days, a ceaseless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old walled city into a slick, treacherous mirror. In the uppermost chamber of the Ironkeep, a structure that had stood since the reign of kings who no longer had names, Thomas Bradshaw sat in the dim light, his back straight against the cold stone. He was a man of few words and harder bone, a...
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