The Golden Greenhouse
The law in the Fens is not written in stone, but in the price of grain and the silence of men who have learned to look at the water. I, Lester Muncy, a sergeant of the border court and a man who has spent forty years enforcing the quiet will of the High Steward, find myself writing these words by the light of a dying lamp, my hands shaking with a cold that seems to have settled into the marrow...
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