The Distant Metropolis
You have forgotten the weight of your own flesh, Captain. The King’s voice did not echo in the vaulted hall of the Iron Keep; it merely hung there, suspended in the stale air that smelled of wet wool and ancient stone, a sentence that seemed to have no beginning or end. I stood before the dais, my hands bound by chains of silver that were cold enough to burn, and I watched the monarch’s eyes,...
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