The Golden Farce

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2026-08-17 15:06:34 -

The Golden Farce

The fog rolled off the harbor in thick, grey sheets, smelling of brine and rust. It tasted like copper on the tongue. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the helm of the *Ironclad*, a vessel of black steel and steam that groaned under the weight of its own purpose. His hands were steady on the wheel. They had to be. Steadiness was the first law. The second was silence. The third was obedience....

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