The Pale Banner

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2026-08-23 09:29:11 -

The Pale Banner

The hall of the White Tower smelled of roasted boar and old stone, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of Sir Aldric Thorne’s throat as he stood by the hearth, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword not for protection, but to steady his trembling fingers. He was forty years old, a captain of the city guard who had bled for the Crown through three winters of border skirmishes, and...

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