The Distant Clue
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended grey curtain against the high, arched windows of the manor. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood. Commander Elias Thorne stood in the center of the library, his boots heavy on the ancient oak floorboards. He was a large man, built for the rigors of the border patrols, his uniform a...
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