The Faded Shield
You are standing at the center of the Grand Hall of the Ironworks, where the air is thick with the smell of hot metal and the low, thrumming vibration of the massive pistons that drive the city’s life, and you are holding a cup of whiskey that has gone warm in your hand while the band plays a tune that seems to have been invented specifically to make hearts ache in a way that is both delightful...
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