The Distant Metropolis
The rain had stopped, leaving the cobblestones slick and black, mirroring the gaslights of the capital like scattered coins. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the terrace, his hand resting on the hilt of his sidearm, though he had not drawn it in hours. He was a man carved from granite and duty, his uniform immaculate despite the grime of the city streets, a stark contrast to the mud...
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