The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 07:02:22 -

The rain did not fall. It struck. I stood in the mud of the courtyard, my armor dented, my breath a ragged snarl in the cold air. The stone walls of the Abbey of St. Jude wept black water. My sword was broken. Not snapped. Bent. A hook of steel that had been a blade an hour ago. They called it a riot. I called it a siege. The brothers were behind me. The abbots. The monks. I had been their...

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