The Golden Farce
The fog at Blackwood Station tasted of coal dust and wet iron, a thick, grey veil that clung to the platform and swallowed the distant whistle of the approaching engine. You stood at the edge of the yellow line, your hands clasped behind your back, your spine rigid as the steel rails beneath your boots. Captain Elias Thorne, enforcer of the Imperial Railways, thirty years old and hollowed out...
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