The Pale Banner
The iron gauntlet lay on the cold stone floor, its fingers splayed open like a dead starfish. It was a masterpiece of blacksmith work, the steel polished to a mirror shine that reflected the dim, flickering torchlight of the dungeon. It was also a cage. Thomas stood before it, his breath visible in the frigid air. He was a man of the Order of the Iron Veil, a sentinel of the deep archives, a...
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