The Golden Oath
The fog is thick. It smells of coal and wet wool. You walk. Your boots crunch on the gravel. The sky is gray. It does not end. You are not in London. You are not in Manchester. You are in the Gray Place. The air is heavy. It presses against your chest. You breathe. It is hard. You are a sergeant. You are old. Your knees ache. You carry a rifle. It is heavy. The metal is cold. You do not drop...
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