The Hollow Victory
The rain in the Borderlands did not fall; it seeped. It seeped into the wool of the uniforms, into the marrow of the bones, and into the very soul of the men stationed at Fort Blackwood. Colonel Arthur Winslow stood by the window of his study, his face a mask of pale, calculated indifference. He watched the fog swallow the jagged peaks of the moor, knowing that within that grey shroud,...
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