The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-21 20:27:17 -

The feast was a riot of tallow light and spiced wine, the air thick with the scent of roasted swan and the damp wool of the gathered townsfolk. I sat at the head of the long oak table, my hands resting on the polished wood, feeling the grain beneath my fingers like the pulse of a sleeping beast. Around me, the merchants of Oakhaven laughed, their voices rising in a chorus that seemed to vibrate...

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