The Pale Door

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2026-08-20 14:41:52 -

The Pale Door

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and old money, a cloying sweetness that clung to the back of the throat like smoke. I stood in the shadows of the pillar, my uniform pressed and rigid, the silver bullion on my shoulders catching the low amber light of the chandeliers. It was a victory dinner for the Seventh Battalion, or so the press releases claimed, though the men around me moved...

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