The Pale Garden
The letter lay on the wet stone table, the ink still damp, smelling of iron and rot. Captain Elias Thorne read it twice, his fingers trembling so violently that the paper fluttered like a dying moth in the wind. It was a formal notice from the High Court in London, dated three days prior, informing him that his request for a permanent commission was denied due to "irregularities in conduct" and...
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