The subterranean coal vaults beneath the inner courtyard of Ironfang Citadel were carved from cold, damp slate, thick with the choking stench of coal dust, sulfur, and unwashed terror. Four hundred northern miners, their wives, and their children were huddled together in the darkness behind heavy iron-banded timber gates. Standing before the gates was Lord Dragan, the southern imperial admiral, surrounded by forty elite imperial praetorians encased in black-lacquered bronze…
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