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... led heavy in the rafters of the Broken Anvil, mingling with the sour tang of old ale and sweat.

The hearths burned low, offering long shadows against battered walls and cracked stone floors.

Peasants, merchants, mercenaries — all pressed shoulder to shoulder, clenching tankards in dirt-stained hands, whispering rumors like prayers.

It had been months since the trial. Months since the Council had fallen to stunned silence before the impossible.

And the city still h ...

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