The Pale Banner
The carriage jolted, throwing your shoulder against the velvet seat. You adjusted the sash, a dull crimson that had seen better days in the muddy court of the old keep, and watched the fog swallow the village below. You were leaving. Again. But this time, the weight in your coat was not gold or gossip, but a shard of blue glass. It cut into your thigh with every bump of the wheel, a small,...
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