The Wistful Campus
The road to the Citadel of Saint Jude was a ribbon of crushed slate and mud that wound its way up the mountain, cutting through the mist like a scar on the face of the earth, and I walked it with the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots that had long since forgotten the feel of soft ground, for my feet were hardened into leather and callus by the years of service I had given to the Crown, and the air...
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