The Distant Journey
The letter lay on the oak table, its seal broken, the ink still wet with the bureaucratic certainty of the Lord’s office. It was a simple notice of non-compliance, a list of grievances regarding the water levels in the lower fields, signed in a hand so tight it looked as if the pen had been clenched in a fist. Elias Thorne did not read it immediately. He sat in the high-backed chair, the...
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