The Distant Clue

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2026-08-26 05:27:43 -

The Distant Clue

The guild hall smelled of beeswax and stale tobacco, a heavy, cloying scent that seemed to coat the tongue and settle in the throat. Colm Hegarty stood at the edge of the banquet table, his hands resting on the polished wood, watching the Guildmaster, a man named O’Rourke, slice into a roasted pheasant with the casual arrogance of a man who owned the air itself. The hall was crowded with the...

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