A Watch in the Night

Night had silenced the ramparts entirely. Standing upon the broad stone embrasure of the east bastion, I rested the ferrule of my parasol against a cold granite merlon, looking out across the black expanse of Lake Constance. Beside an iron torch bracket, an abandoned brass spyglass lay tilted precariously on the rough sill, its brass barrel dulled by lake fog. With deliberate composure, I extended one gloved finger and eased the tube straight, aligning its dark lens directly toward the silent horizon. Below, the quiet water mirrored distant shore lanterns like cold stars. Such tranquil vigilance belongs only to those who embrace the dark.