The Golden Downtown
The city of Aethelgard did not sleep; it merely shifted its weight, a vast, breathing beast of stone and timber that groaned under the burden of its own grandeur. It was a place where the air tasted of iron filings and damp wool, where the fog rolled in from the harbor like a grey tide, swallowing the spires of the cathedral and the lower warrens of the slums in equal measure. In the high...
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