The Pale Banner

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2026-08-24 16:19:27 -

The Pale Banner

I left Lyon with the weight of the dead in my pocket. The year was 1348, and the air tasted of rot and woodsmoke. I was Elias, a scribe of thirty years, and I carried a stolen royal seal. It was a pale disc of wax, cold to the touch, yet it hummed with a low, vibrating malice. My goal was simple: reach the cathedral in Geneva by nightfall and hide the seal in the crypt. The Inquisitor’s shadow...

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