The Distant Blade
The gavel struck the obsidian table with a sound like a bone snapping, and Elias Thorne felt the vibration travel up through the wood, into his wrists, and settle in the marrow of his forearms. He was forty years old, a border warden for the last twelve, and the pension he sought required a clean record of service, which meant he had to report the breach at the Northern Gate. The air in the...
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