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Aeric slumped onto the weathered wooden bench that sat under the shade of a tall old tree, sweat pouring down his brow and soaking the sleeveless shirt he was wearing.

His chest rose and fell with deep, labored breaths as the exhaustion from the spar finally caught up to him. Aeric leaned back, his head tilting to the sky, eyes half-lidded against the golden sun.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a maiden approach, carrying a pewter jug of water and a small cup. She curtsi ...

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