The Pale Protocol
The letter lay on the desk, its ink still faintly damp, a small brown stain spreading like a bruise on the cream-colored paper. Elias Thorne, Sergeant of the Fourth Border Watch, picked it up with a gloved hand, the leather creaking in the cold air of the outpost. It was a routine report from the supply depot, a list of nails, mortar, and iron bars, but the weight of the paper felt heavier than...
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