The Pale Banner
The mud of the Veldt Pass did not merely soak the boots of Captain Elias Thorne; it consumed them, a cold, sucking weight that pulled at his ankles with the tenacity of a desperate lover, and he felt the familiar, iron-sharp taste of blood in his mouth as he gripped the hilt of his sword, the leather wrap slick with sweat and the rain that had fallen for three days without cease. He was thirty...
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