The Distant Temple
Act I Lars Aas, thirty-two years old and a city guard in the port of Bruges, had spent the last decade ensuring that the grain shipments arrived before the winter freeze, a duty that had cost him his marriage and left him with a permanent ache in his left knee from the damp cobblestones. The light was failing fast, that heavy, yellowish gloom that settled over the canal country in late autumn,...
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