The Wistful Mountain
You stand at the edge of the town square. The cobblestones are wet. Rain has stopped. It is late. The gas lamps hiss. They burn low. The air smells of coal smoke. It smells of wet wool. You wear your uniform. The brass buttons are cold against your chest. You are a sergeant. You are tired. Your bones ache. You hold a heavy iron key. It hangs from a chain around your neck. It rests on your...
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