The Pale Banner
Thorne. The name cut through the damp chill of the keep, sharp as a flint strike. Captain Elias Thorne did not look up. His eyes were fixed on the mist coiling around the courtyard stones, a grey sludge that smelled of wet wool and old iron. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his longsword, the leather worn smooth by ten years of service. The silence of the siege was heavy, pressing against...
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