The Wistful Cipher
The rain fell in sheets, blurring the grey sky into the grey earth. Marcus Vance rode a black horse through the mud. The mud sucked at his boots. It tried to keep him. He fought it. His hands were white on the reins. He was a man of the law. He carried the seal of the Crown. The seal was heavy. It hung from his belt. It was a square of iron. It was cold. He rode toward the estate. The estate...
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