The Distant Crown
Chapter One Miroslav Jelinek’s fingers moved in a tight, circular motion, the cloth rasping against the brass of the service medal until the metal blurred into a dull, yellow smear. He was thirty-four years old, a garrison commander in the iron-scented fog of the 1912 industrial frontier, and he needed the promotion that would pay the debt dragging his brother, Tomáš, down into the dark of the...
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