The Golden Oath
The polder winds did not blow so much as they dragged, pulling the salt air across the new land until the mud hardened into a crust that cracked under the weight of the ironworks. It was a landscape of shrinking seas and rising foundations, a place where the Dutch diaspora had traded their old debts for new iron, and where Roelof Schouten stood at the gate of the Krommen Steelworks, holding a...
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