The Pale Banner
The coat was the first thing to go, left on the back of a chair in the antechamber as if shed by a snake, its heavy wool still holding the scent of the rain and the damp stone of the palace. It was a garment of severe cut, dark as a bruise, and it had belonged to Elias Thorne for thirty years, a second skin that had absorbed the dust of a thousand courtrooms and the silence of a thousand...
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