The Distant Metropolis
The carriage wheels ground against the cobblestones of the ancient city, a rhythmic, metallic grinding that seemed to echo the slow, grinding erosion of time within the bones of Commander Elias Thorne. He sat rigid in the corner of the velvet-lined vehicle, his hand resting not on his sword, but on the small, leather-bound case that contained the final seal of the Empire’s northern garrison....
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