The Pale Banner

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2026-08-20 04:44:46 -

The Pale Banner

The mud was thick enough to swallow a man’s boot to the ankle, and the rain had not stopped for three days. We stood in the courtyard of the manor, a circle of twelve men, our breath misting in the cold air, while the blacksmith, Old Thomas, swung his hammer against the anvil with a rhythmic, deafening clang. It was the only sound that mattered. It was the heartbeat of the house. I watched the...

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