The Distant Cartograph
Magnus Ekstrom hauled the second-best sledge across the cobblestones, the iron runners biting into the frost with a sound like teeth cracking bone. His lungs burned, a dry, racking ache that pulled at every breath he took in the biting Copenhagen wind. He was thirty-two, a senior cartographer in the Imperial Court, and he sought only to finish the final survey of the Northern Frontier before...
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