The Pale Banner
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that blurred the edges of the world and turned the cobblestones of the garrison square into a slick, dark mirror reflecting the looming stone walls. Elias Thorne stood by the window of his quarters, his hands wrapped around a mug of cold coffee, watching the water drip from the eaves in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. He was a man...
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