The Distant Blade

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2026-08-20 19:06:09 -

The Distant Blade

The air in the Grand Hall of the Ironworks did not smell of steel, as one might expect, but of wet wool and stale wine, a heavy, cloying scent that clung to the skin like a second, heavier coat. You stood at the far end of the long, polished mahogany table, your uniform immaculate, the brass buttons catching the amber glow of the gas chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling like suspended...

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