The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:52:36 -

The Pale Exile

The hall smelled of roasted goose and damp wool. It was the Feast of St. Jude, and the air in the great stone chamber was thick with smoke and the heavy, cloying scent of beeswax candles. I sat at the far end of the long table, my hands wrapped around a cup of ale that had gone warm. The ale tasted of iron and old wood. I watched the men laugh. They were loud. They were proud. They were my...

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