The Pale Banner
The road to the high keep of Blackwater was not a road at all but a scar cut into the grey flanks of the hillside, worn smooth by centuries of hooves and the desperate, stumbling feet of those who had no other way to reach the seat of power, and Thomas Bradshaw walked it with a gait that was less walking than a rhythmic, mechanical struggle against the mud that sucked at his boots, dragging a...
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