The Pale Banner
The heavy oak door of the Blackwood Keep groaned as it shut, sealing the last sliver of twilight behind the iron hinges, and the silence that followed was not empty but thick, a physical weight that pressed against the eardrums and settled into the marrow of the bones. Sir Edward Ashworth stood in the center of the great hall, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had seen better...
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