The Wistful Skyline
Act I The canal locks of Hokkaido groaned under the weight of the winter mud, a slow, grinding industry of tolls and timber that bound the independent distillers to the monopoly’s iron fist. The air hung with the drone of the power station, a low hum that vibrated in the teeth of everyone who worked the mud season, and the sky hung low and grey over the karst towers that rose from the flooded...
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