The Silent Dirge
The fog of 1874 London did not merely cling to the cobblestones; it seeped into the very marrow of the soul. At the Blackwood Military Academy, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and old discipline. Colonel Alistair Thorne, a man whose face seemed carved from a single piece of cold Prussian granite, stood before the line of girls. They were the daughters of Earls and Viscounts,...
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