The Golden Cellar
The envelope was thick, the paper cream-colored and soft, smelling faintly of the damp earth where it had lain for months. Rowland Larkin, Sergeant of the 4th Infantry, sat at his desk in the barracks, the morning light cutting a sharp, dusty wedge across the wood, illuminating the ink-stained cipher that had appeared overnight on his blotter. It was not a military code; the characters were a...
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