The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-17 20:22:45 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and ozone. It was a smell that should not have existed together, yet here it was, thick in the air of the high tower where the King’s Court held its midwinter feast. I sat at the far end of the long table, my hands folded on the white linen, watching the steam rise from the tureens. The chandeliers above were not made of crystal, but of captured...

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