The Distant Affair
The rain does not fall; it hangs in the air, a grey veil that has forgotten how to touch the ground. You are sitting in the high gallery of the Great Hall, your hands resting on the cold stone railing, watching the figures below move through the mud of the courtyard. They are small, these people, their faces blurred by the mist and the distance, but you know them. You know the shape of their...
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