The Distant Legend

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2026-08-17 19:22:42 -

The banquet hall of the ironworks smelled of burnt sugar and coal dust, a cloying mixture that clung to the back of Elias Thorne’s throat. He stood near the heavy oak table, his uniform pressed until it crackled, the brass buttons of his sergeant’s tunic catching the flicker of the gaslights. Around him, the men of the Ironside Foundry moved with the sluggish, heavy grace of men who had spent...

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