The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-18 19:10:36 -

The banquet hall of the Ironworks smelled of roasted pheasant, stale beer, and the metallic tang of the new machinery that had just been installed in the lower foundry, a scent that seemed to seep up through the floorboards and into the soles of their shoes. Captain Elias Thorne sat at the head of the long oak table, his uniform pressed and immaculate, though his eyes held the dull, glassy...

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