The Distant Clue
"Cut it. Cut it now." The voice is not mine. It is the voice of the Captain, though the man standing before me is dead. His throat is a jagged ruin, black blood pooling in the collar of his grey tunic. I am on my knees in the mud, the blade in my hand trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, mechanical failure of my own limbs. The sword is heavy. It has always been heavy. We were trained to...
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