The Wistful Show
The hammer fell, a dull, wet thud that seemed to absorb the light in the room. "Thorne! You’re lagging again, you old mule." The voice of Kael, Lord Vane’s lieutenant, cut through the rhythmic clanging of the other smiths, sharp and brittle as a snapped twig. Elias Thorne did not look up. His hands, thick-knuckled and scarred by forty years of fire and iron, trembled against the handle of the...
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