The Pale Bridge

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2026-08-19 16:53:29 -

The Pale Bridge

The road to the Abbey of St. Jude was a ribbon of mud that tightened as we ascended. I carried the loaf on my back. It was not bread, not really. It was a dense, pale block of compressed root and chalk, wrapped in oiled cloth that had begun to rot at the seams. The weight of it pulled at my shoulders, a heavy, damp anchor. Behind me, the column of soldiers moved in silence. We were the Guard of...

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