The Distant Cartograph
We rode northward into the grey mist that clung to the valley like a shroud of wet wool, the wheels of the cart creaking a rhythmic, mournful hymn against the gravel that seemed to stretch endlessly before us, a pathless boundary where the known world dissolved into the white void of the unknown. I was young then, a scholar of modest renown who had devoted his life to the cartography of...
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