The Distant Blade
The ink on the letter was still wet when I held it, a dark stain against the pale paper that smelled of the bureaucracy’s cold, sterile air. I stood at the iron gate of the Hale estate, the autumn wind stripping the last of the leaves from the elms, and read the words that stripped me of my rank, my pension, and the life I had built over twenty years of service. Colonel Vance’s signature, sharp...
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