The Distant Cartograph

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2026-08-22 09:38:33 -

The iron bit of the map was cold against my knuckles. I held it tight, the metal biting into my palm, a sharp, familiar pain that cut through the fog of the battlefield. Around us, the mud churned black and thick, sucking at our boots, swallowing the sounds of dying men. I was the Enforcer, a title that tasted like rust in my mouth. My job was to keep the lines. To keep the order. To make sure...

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