The Pale Banner
You are bleeding, and the blood is the color of the rusted iron that binds your shield to your arm. It is not a bright red. It is a dull, earthy maroon, like the mud of the River Ouse after a long, wet spring. You do not feel the pain. Not yet. The pain is a distant thing, a rumor whispered by a neighbor in a village you have not reached, while here, in the center of the circle, there is only...
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