The Golden Visit
The siren did not wail; it screamed, a metallic shriek that tore through the foggy morning air of the Ironworks District. It was a sound that had no business existing in the quiet, soot-stained streets where Arthur Pendelton walked his morning rounds. He was a man carved from the same gray stone as the factory chimneys, his uniform pressed with a severity that seemed to absorb the light around...
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