35
The day dragged on in drills and chores. Emil’s body obeyed by instinct, his mind heavy, his thoughts circling endlessly. When the bell finally tolled release, the apprentices scattered toward barracks, mess, and the rare snatches of freedom allowed. Emil did not follow. He slipped through the citadel’s quieter corridors, past storerooms and narrow stairwells, until he found himself in a deserted cloister. Stone arches framed a small courtyard, overgrown with weeds. The air here was cooler, stiller. The only sound was the drip of water from a cracked spout. He sank onto the low stone ledge of a fountain long dry. His armor pressed uncomfortably against his ribs, but he did not remove it. He sat with his hands slack in his lap, staring at the weeds. The silence was heavy. And then, ine
- Writer
