The Distant Affair
The air in the Grand Hall of the Ironworks smelt of wet coal, stale sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. You stood at the center of the marble floor, your boots planted wide, the heavy iron bars of your gauntlets clinking softly as you shifted your weight. The crowd, a sea of soot-stained faces and white shirts, pressed against the velvet ropes, their murmurs a low, constant hum that...
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