The Pale Banner
The road into the city of Oakhaven was a ribbon of mud and stone, slick with the recent rain that had turned the autumn leaves into a bruised purple smear. Thomas Bradshaw walked it alone, his boots heavy with the weight of the miles he had already swallowed. He was a man of the Crown’s guard, or he had been, until the morning the orders came to burn the eastern quarter. He carried no banner,...
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