The Map of Small Deaths
The General lived in a world of ink and vellum. To him, the war was a beautiful problem of geometry. He sat in his tent, moving small wooden blocks across a map of the continent, convinced that he was sculpting the future of a civilization. "A masterstroke," he would murmur, sliding a block three inches to the left. "The flank is exposed. The victory will be absolute." But the map was a lie....
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