The Distant Cartograph
The quill felt heavy in Elias Thorne’s hand, a sliver of dried goose feather that had lost its stiffness against the wet, gray vellum. He was thirty-two years old, a man whose hands had been stained with ink since boyhood, and he was currently transcribing the final clause of a royal decree that would strip the lands of his wife, Elara, a noblewoman of the Pemberton line, of their legal...
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