The Distant Temple
The order arrived on a sheet of heavy, cream-colored paper, the ink still wet and smelling faintly of the tannin used in the manor’s oldest archives. It was a requisition form, Form 14-B, for the procurement of wool blankets for the garrison, signed by the Quartermaster, Thomas Bradshaw. I held the paper in my hands, my fingers stiff from the cold, and watched the light from the single tallow...
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