The Pale Banner
The rain had turned the camp into a slurry of mud and despair, and I stood before the polished face of my shield, watching my own reflection tremble in the dim light of the tent. I was Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a captain of the Royal Border Guard, and I had spent the last six hours trying to steady my hands, which were now slick with sweat and fear. The tribunal was set to begin at...
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