The Pale Tale
Thorne! Hold the line, you fool, or the mud will swallow you whole. The shout came from the darkness behind the parapet, a ragged bark that cut through the relentless drumming of rain on the wet earth. I did not turn. I could not afford the motion. The Siege of Caen had turned the world into a slurry of brown and grey, a place where the light of day was a dull, bruised smear that offered no...
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