The Wistful Skyline

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 09:23:45 -

The banquet hall of the Ironworks Directorate smelled of roasted pheasant, stale tobacco, and the metallic tang of ambition that permeated the very bricks of the building. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the edge of the long mahogany table, his uniform pressed to a razor’s edge, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture of rigid discipline that felt less like duty and more like a cage. He was a...

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