The Distant Metropolis
The heavy oak door groaned open, a sound like the last gasp of a dying man, and Master Aldous stepped out onto the cobblestones of the palace forecourt, where the morning mist clung to the stones with a tenacity that felt less like weather and more like the lingering breath of the dead who had once walked these hallowed, damp grounds. He held in his calloused, trembling hands the small,...
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