The Distant Crown
Bernardino Henriques woke with the taste of oak shavings in his mouth and the cold snap of the pipes bursting against the plaster of the walls, a sound like a bone snapping in the dark. He was thirty-two, a scholar of the old dialects, and he needed the royal pardon for his village’s tax debt by noon or the magistrate would seize the land. He dressed in the grey wool of his trade, the cafeteria...
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