The Distant Metropolis
The iron weight of the sword was a familiar ache in Elias Thorne’s shoulder, a dull, grinding pain that had settled into his marrow over the last three years of service to the Crown’s industrial expansion. He stood in the vast, echoing atrium of the Sterling Steelworks, a cathedral of soot and steam where the air tasted of copper and old sweat, and watched the morning shift begin with the...
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