The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-17 12:07:54 -

The morning light in the keep of Oakhaven did not merely illuminate; it pressed against the stone windows like a living thing, thick with dust motes that danced in slow, deliberate spirals, as if the air itself was holding its breath. Sir Thomas Bradshaw stood by the heavy oak table, his hands resting on the hilt of his longsword, the leather worn smooth by years of faithful grip, a texture...

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