The Pale Exile
The carriage had traveled for nine hours, and Elias Thorne counted the rattle of the wheels against the iron rails to keep his mind from drifting into the grey fog that clung to the moors. He was forty years old, a Major in the Royal Constabulary, and this was to be his last assignment before the mandatory retirement that promised a quiet pension and a life free of the heavy coat and the...
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