The Pale Banner

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2026-08-19 19:17:24 -

The Pale Banner

The iron of the breastplate hums against your ribs, a cold, metallic song that has become the only rhythm you know. You stand in the antechamber of the High Steward, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and old stone, while the sun cuts through the high arched windows in slanting pillars of dust. It is a quiet morning, the kind that feels suspended in time, where the only movement is the...

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