The Distant Metropolis
The count of the hours in the tower was a grim arithmetic, each tick of the clock a coin dropped into a well that never bottomed out. You were the Captain of the Palace Guard, a title that had grown heavy on your shoulders in the second year of your reign, a weight that felt less like honor and more like the yoke of a beast of burden. It was the autumn solstice that loomed ahead, a deadline for...
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