The Wistful Skyline
The rain in the old city does not wash things clean; it only makes the grime slicker, turning the cobblestones into mirrors that reflect the broken faces of the sky. I am a soldier of the Night Watch, a title that sounds grand enough for a ballad, though it is mostly a job of walking, waiting, and trying not to freeze my toes off in the damp stone. My name is Elias, and I have worn the same...
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