The Distant Crown
The hall smelled of roasted lamb and stale beer, a thick, cloying fog that hung low over the long tables where the officers of the Third Battalion sat in their dress uniforms, their medals catching the light from the chandeliers above. It was a victory banquet, though no one had explicitly said the word victory, and the silence that fell over the room whenever the band stopped playing felt...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews