The Pale Banner
The mortar is empty. You stare at the smooth, worn wood, the residue of dried bark clinging to the bottom like dried blood. Outside, the wind howls through the valley, carrying the smell of smoke and wet earth. The siege has been going on for three weeks. The commander, Sir Julian, is dying. His lungs are failing, his body wasting away in the tower room above your workshop. You have one chance....
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