The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-19 01:34:44 -

The Pale Meridian

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and stale tobacco. It was a thick, cloying scent that clung to the velvet curtains and the polished mahogany table. I sat at the head of the room, not by choice, but by force. My uniform was white, starched stiff as a board. It felt less like fabric and more like a shell. A chrysalis I had not yet broken out of. General Halloway stood to my left. He...

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