The Distant Crown
The first thing you count is the hours. There have been nine since dawn broke the grey sky over the estate, and nine more until the tribunal sits to judge your life’s work. You sit at the long oak table in the archive room, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows and ink stains, and you count the pages of the ledger again, though you know the numbers do not change. Forty-two years old, and...
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