The Pale Banner
The hall of the Abbey of St. Jude was a throat of stone, swallowing the light of the torches and the breath of the assembled men in equal measure. I stood at the center of the circular chamber, my hands bound not by rope but by the rigid, unyielding will of the Order, my spirit stretched thin over the cold flagstones until I could feel the dust of centuries settling into the crevices of my...
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