The Golden Downtown
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a grey curtain drawn tight against the windows of the tower. You stand at the precipice of the city’s highest spire, the wind tearing at the edges of your cloak, pulling at the hem of your tunic as if the air itself were trying to drag you down into the streets below. Below, the city of Aethelgard breathes. It is a sprawling, ancient beast of stone...
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