The Distant Crown
The rain had been falling on the grey stone of the Ministry for four days, a persistent, weeping veil that turned the cobblestones into mirrors reflecting the dull, amber glow of the streetlamps, and inside the sterile, air-conditioned silence of the High Command Chamber, the air tasted of ozone and old paper, a scent that had seeped into the very fibers of the uniform worn by Major Elias...
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