The Distant Metropolis
Act I "You’re three seconds behind, Lester." Kael didn’t look up from the crate he was prying open. The sound of the metal prying bar scraping against the wood was a dry, rhythmic scraping that filled the shop, mixing with the low hum of the fog pressing against the glass of the display case. Lester Sturgis stood by the counter, his hand hovering over the polished brass scales, watching his own...
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