The Distant Crown
The ledger showed twelve days, nine hours, and four pence. That was the sum of Elias Thorne’s life, weighed and counted out in the cold light of the clerk’s desk. He stood in the center of the town hall, his boots squelching against the damp flagstones, watching the ink dry on the page. The air smelled of damp wool and stale pipe tobacco, a thick, cloying scent that seemed to settle in the back...
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