The Pale Banner
The seal was on the door. I remember the texture of the wax, thick and cold, pressed into the wood like a bruise. It bore the crest of the Ashworths, a pale banner unfurled in the center, flanked by lions that looked less like beasts and more like starving dogs. I had been a soldier for thirty years. I had broken the ribs of men in the mud of Flanders and I had held the line against the tide in...
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