The Distant Crown
The iron gate of the Wardens’ Hall groaned under the weight of the morning fog, a sound like a man clearing his throat before a lie. Elias Thorne stood in the courtyard, the damp stone slick beneath his boots, watching the condemned rebel struggle against the shackles. He wanted the kill. He wanted the promotion that came with it, the steady wage that would finally clear the debt his father had...
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