The Wistful Campus
The rain has been falling on the grey stone of the priory for three days, a relentless, cold drumming against the high arched windows that have sealed you inside this world of damp wool and ancient dust since the moment the carriage wheels creaked to a halt at the muddy gate, and you stand now in the library, your hands trembling slightly as you hold the heavy, leather-bound volume, the leather...
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