The Pale Garden
The seal breaks. It happens at dawn. You press the wax against the cold iron of the carriage door. It cracks. A jagged red tear. The letter inside is blank. But you know what it says. You have carried it for three days. The weight of it is a stone in your gut. You are a man of duty. A man of silence. Your uniform is black wool. It smells of lanolin and smoke. You stand in the yard of the...
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