The Pale Banner

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2026-08-18 22:13:01 -

The Pale Banner

The hall of the Iron Keep did not smell of stone or cold iron, as the histories promised, but of wet wool, stale mead, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. I stood at the edge of the dais, my feet bare against the flagstones, watching the Lord of the Keep raise his cup to the ceiling. He was a man of vast girth and little shadow, his face a map of red veins and satisfied gluttony. Around him,...

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