The Pale Banner
The fever had settled in the marrow of Elias Vane like a second skeleton, a rigid lattice of bone that did not belong to him, and he stood at the edge of the great oak table in the Hall of Whispers where the air tasted of damp stone, ancient candle wax, and the metallic tang of blood that had been spilled for centuries and never fully washed away, while the King sat at the far end, his crown a...
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