The pungent, bitter stench of burned sulfur, spilled blood, and scorched flesh lingered heavily inside the high arched portico of the Temple of the Silent Scale. Across the courtyard, forty neutral arbiters were frantically extinguishing the phosphorus fires with buckets of mineral brine, while healers in white robes tended to twelve wounded Ironspire guards who lay groaning upon the cracked tiles. On the central dais, seven assassins lay dead in…
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