The Distant Metropolis
The lamp in the command tent flickered, casting a sickly yellow hue over the map table where the ink was still wet. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood rigid, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the wood, watching Major Vance circle the perimeter of the tent like a vulture circling a carcass. Vance did not look at him. He looked at the file, a thin folder of manila paper that contained the sum...
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