The Distant Journey
The keystone is sound, my Lord. It is structurally perfect." Elias Thorne stood in the center of the drafty rotunda, his hands still dusted with white lime, and watched the Lord Chancellor circle the central pillar like a vulture inspecting a carcass. The air in the new Parliament building was cold, biting at Elias’s exposed neck, and smelled of wet stone and turpentine. It was November of...
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