The Faded Quadrant
The fog in the Highlands did not roll in; it sat, heavy and grey, pressing against the earth like a wet wool blanket. Elias Thorne, Sergeant of the Royal Highlanders, walked through it with the mechanical precision of a man who had forgotten how to feel anything other than duty. In his left hand, he held the quadrant. It was not a standard instrument, but a brass-bound curiosity with a needle...
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