The Distant Wound

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2026-08-23 23:44:36 -

The Distant Wound

The leather of the sword hilt was worn smooth by three decades of grip, and the salt of your palms had long since seeped into the grain, making it slick and treacherous in the damp air of the textile quarter. You were Elias, a City Watchman of thirty years, and you wanted only the pension that your aching knees and bad back had earned, but that pension was a ghost in the ledger until you could...

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