The Faded Chronicle

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2026-08-19 05:43:58 -

The mud was thick, a living thing that sucked at our boots with a wet, relentless greed. I held my sword, the iron pommel cold against my palm, while Master Aldous stood three paces ahead, his back to me. He did not turn. He never did when the lesson began. The air in the training yard was still, heavy with the smell of damp straw and the metallic tang of blood that had seeped into the earth...

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