Chapter 110 - The Foundation's Dust

The dawn that followed the broadcast was not the golden, triumphant light of a storybook. It was a cold, clinical white that exposed every crack in the Academy's stone and every bruise on the faces of its students. The quad was a sea of gray slush and discarded Foundation gear, the remnants of a week-long occupation that had tried to starve the spirit out of Valmere. Royal Scouts, their blue-and-gold surcoats a sharp contrast to the grim surroundings, moved with an efficiency that made the previous occupation look like a schoolyard play. They were stripping the Sanitizers of their obsidian rods and leading Dr. Vane—now a shivering, pathetic figure in his ruined gray coat—into a high-security transport wagon. I watched from the high balcony of the Relay Tower, my legs dangling over the edge as I leaned my aching back against a cooling brass vent.