The Faded Masquerade
Did you think I would leave? The lanterns hissed in the dark, a sound like steam escaping a cracked pipe, and I sat on the edge of my cot in the barrack room at one hundred and twenty-six of Lantern Yard, packing my kit with hands that shook not from cold but from the weight of ten years. The air was heavy with damp wool and old grease, and the gritters were already out on the roads outside,...
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