The Distant Metropolis
The carriage rolled over the cobblestones of the lower city, a rhythm that matched the slow, heavy beating of Thomas’s heart, a mechanical pulse that had no place in the organic quiet of his mind. He sat in the corner, his knees drawn up, his hands resting on the cold iron latch of the door, watching the rain blur the world outside into a smear of grey and wet slate. The year was 1348, though...
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