The Pale Banner

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2026-08-20 19:37:59 -

The Pale Banner

The rain fell in a steady, gray sheet against the glass of the infirmary. It was a cold rain, the kind that seeped into the bones and settled in the joints, refusing to leave. Thomas Bradshaw sat on a wooden stool, his hands resting on his knees. They were red and swollen, the knuckles split and raw. The smell of antiseptic was thick in the air, sharp and medicinal, masking the fainter, sweeter...

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