The Golden Compass
The transfer request lay on the mahogany desk, the paper yellowed by the humidity of the cellar, the ink smudged where Elias Thorne’s thumb had pressed the seal. It was a simple form, three lines of text requesting a reassignment to the coastal garrison at Dover, citing health reasons that were, in the language of the army, non-existent. Thorne watched Colonel Halloway pick up the document with...
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