The Wistful Skyline
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the old manor house into slick, black mirrors that reflected the grey, bruised sky above. I stood by the window, my hand resting on the cold iron railing, watching the water run in rivulets down the glass. It was the third day since I had left my post at the city gates, a leave of absence granted by the Commander with a nod...
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