The Golden Maze
The banquet hall of the Foundry sat like a bruise against the soot-stained walls of the industrial district, a cavernous expanse of polished mahogany and heavy velvet that had not seen the light of day in thirty years. I stood at the head of the table, my uniform still bearing the faint, oily residue of the shift that had ended only an hour prior, the brass buttons of my tunic catching the dim,...
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