The Pale Banner

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2026-08-22 08:28:39 -

The Pale Banner

The feast of Lord Blackwood was a rotting thing, sweet with the smell of burnt sugar and old blood. Thomas stood by the wall, his back aching, watching the lords and ladies laugh in a way that made his teeth hurt. He was a scribe, a man of ink and paper, and he was thirty years old, which meant he was too old to be poor and not dead. The plague had taken half the city, but the debt collectors...

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