The Pale Banner
The rain had turned the cobblestones of the Oakhaven bridge into a slick, grey mirror, reflecting the flickering torchlight that was already sputtering out against the wind. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and a captain in the King’s Guard, and my knees are screaming with a damp, grinding ache that has nothing to do with the enemy and everything to do with the twenty years I have spent...
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