The Distant Crown
The letter lay on the workbench, the ink still wet, smelling of iron and cold. It was a notice from the Magistrate’s office, a single sheet of heavy paper detailing a reduction in wages for "negligence of structural integrity." I signed it without reading the fine print, my hand steady despite the tremor in my left leg. Outside, the sky over Oakhaven was the color of a bruise, pressing down on...
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