The Distant Cartograph
The fog rolled in from the sea, thick and grey, swallowing the coast whole. Sir Julian March walked the ridge, his boots sinking into the wet heather. He carried no sword. His hands were empty. This was the first rule of the Order. You do not fight what you cannot see. You only map it. He had been walking for three days. The path was not a path but a memory of one, carved into the earth by...
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