The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 08:18:09 -

The mud sucked at my boots. It was a cold, grey slush that turned my shins into numb stumps. I stood in the courtyard of the priory, the iron gate groaning behind me. My hands shook. Not from the cold. From the weight of the sword at my hip. I had come to kill a man. The Abbot called me a traitor. The brothers called me a heretic. I called myself nothing. Just a soldier with a broken shoulder...

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