The Distant Journey

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2026-08-23 01:59:25 -

The ledger was three feet long and smelled of damp oak and old ink. I counted the lines. Forty-two names. Forty-two families in Harrowgate who would starve or sell their sons to the mines if I did not write their debts down correctly. My hand trembled, not from the cold, but from the weight of the pen. Lord Vane stood behind me, his breath smelling of cloves and iron. He did not speak. He did...

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