The Distant Crown
Sounding line, 14:00, depth: 42 fathoms. The chart was wet. Chapter One‌​⁠⁠‌‌‌​​‌‍‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌⁠‌‌‌​⁠‌​‍‌‍‍‍‍​⁠​‍⁠‍‌‍‍⁠‌​​​​‌‌​‍ Andres Serrano sat in the mud of the trench, his back against the cold, damp earth that smelled of iron and rot. He was thirty-two, a cartographer by trade, a soldier by misfortune, and he clutched a map of the enemy’s supply lines so tightly his...
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