The Distant Metropolis
The fog rolled in off the moors like a grey tide, swallowing the world until only the immediate ground beneath my boots remained real. I stood before the office of General Halloway, my hand resting on the pommel of my sword, the leather worn smooth by years of border skirmishes and the weight of a secret I carried in my chest. I was thirty-two, a veteran of the last three campaigns, and I had...
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