The Wistful Skyline
The ink on the seal was dry, Captain, but the paper was still wet. Elias Thorne held the parchment up to the window of the guardroom, his fingers stained black to the knuckle. The rain hammered against the glass, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to shake the very stones of the citadel. Captain Halloway did not look up from his ledger. He was counting the grain stores for the winter,...
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