The Pale Banner
The iron bit was in my mouth, and the taste of blood was thick on my tongue. I could feel the tremor of my own hand as I raised the lance. It was not a dream. The dust of the courtyard was real, choking the air with the scent of old sweat and horsehair. I was not a king. I was not a lord. I was a squire, and my body was a map of bruises that ached in time with the hammering of my heart....
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