The Distant Crown
The ledger in my hand weighed nearly as much as the iron key to the granary, its pages swollen with damp and the ink blurred by the sweat of my palms as I counted the last of the winter provisions: twelve sacks of salted beef, four casks of ale, and enough oats to keep the men from starving for another week, provided the wind did not tear the thatch from the roof before the snow did. I am Elias...
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