The Pale Banner
The heavy oak tankard in Eamon’s hands was warm, the ale inside dark and thick with sediment, and the weight of it was the only thing keeping his arms from shaking as the noise of the hall rose around him. He stood near the center of the long table, surrounded by the lords and knights of King Rhys, the tallow candles burning low and casting long, distorted shadows that stretched across the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews