The Pale Banner
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s College smelled of damp wool, old paper, and the metallic tang of fear. It was a feast of a sort, though no food was served, only the sharp, biting wind that whistled through the broken panes of the high windows. We gathered there, the senior faculty, huddled around the long oak table where the rector had once presided over debates on theology and the...
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