The Wistful Campus
The ink in the ledger was still wet, a dark smear against the yellowed paper, and you are holding the quill as if it were a bone you have just pulled from a carcass. The rain hammers against the single pane of glass in the window of the Blackwood Estate barracks, a relentless, cold percussion that matches the pounding in your temples. You are Thomas Vane, Captain of the Royal Constabulary, and...
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