The Distant Ghost
The parchment was brittle, the ink faded to a brown that matched the rot in the grain of the table. You read the order again, your thumb tracing the jagged edge of the seal. It was a list of provisions: three flintlocks, twelve rounds of ball, a coil of hemp rope, and a single vial of consecrated silver nitrate. The date was the fourteenth of October, the year of the Great Blight. You were...
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