The Distant Clue
The summons came not as a shout, but as a whisper in the throat of the wind that rattled the high, narrow windows of the Ministry, a sound that Colonel Elias Thorne had learned to associate with the specific, grinding friction of institutional inertia. He stood in the corridor, his uniform pressed so tight it seemed to hold his ribs in a vice, waiting for the clerk to emerge from the office...
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