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Next chapter: Chapter 27
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... sharpness of his appearance had faded into a haggard weariness. He seldom left his room, save for a quick stroll to the baker at noon or for supper.

Lansius sat on the edge of his straw mattress, his back hunched and his gaze fixed on the floor of his dimly lit room. He wore his faded blue Centurian tunic, a garment that stirred memories of his friend. Clinging to these memories offered him a bitter form of comfort.

A half-empty small jar of wine and an empty bucket lay on the f ...

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