The Distant Blade
The Guild Master’s voice cut through the fog like a blade through wet wool, sharp and final. "Elias Thorne, you are to deliver the Aethelgard mechanism to the Hall of Standards by the winter solstice, or your license will be revoked before the first frost." Elias stood at the window of his workshop, his hands trembling not from the cold that seeped through the single pane of glass, but from the...
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