Rejected Black Library Submission

I submitted a Black Library submission as an exercise in creative writing. I didn't expect to get selected and I wasn't (got the notification today). But that's OK, it lets me share my submission. These days most of my writing is business case based, which is a way different than creative fiction. Below is the newest draft of my submission I could find. I believe they wanted a summary or short brief and then a sample of actual writing. Feel free to give any feedback you may have. Oh, and if you enjoy it and want to know more about Slivers, you can find my World Anvil site here, where I've built my own little corner of Chamon. 

Summary

In the eyes of a Stormcast, the city of Slivers is relatively young, the result of a successful Dawnbringers Crusade a generation ago. To those who arrived as part of the crusade, the place feels old to them, they have seen a lot of change. Over time, a number of Great Houses have come to control the city, some gain their influence through commerce, others through industry, and many with a sliver of darkness. 

New arrivals see a place of opportunity. But it is also a place of danger, some outside of the walls but also along the city streets. Will Marus, a recently arrived laborer successfully navigate these streets or fall victim to one of the many dangers in and around Slivers?

Marus is a recent arrival to Slivers, a city in Chamon, the result of a successful Dawnbringer Crusade a generation ago. The Great Houses that control Slivers are always looking for new arrivals, like Marus, to staff their forges, mines, and other pieces of industry. But, not all is as it seems, rumors of unnatural darkness and death hidden behind the doors of the Great Houses are often whispered among the common folk.

Can Marus successfully navigate the secrets of Slivers or will he become just another cog in the machines of the Great Houses?"

Sample

The pounding of the cog drills receded as Marus guided the cart out of the depths of the mine and towards the surface of Chamon. The city of Slivers had an expansive network of mineral mines outside its walls, for if there was one thing Chamon had in spades, it was precious metals. 

Reaching the surface, Marus paused to take in a breath of clean air. Down in the mines, every breath resulted in a mouth full of dust leaving a metallic tang on your mouth that somehow made it hard to breath and made you cold at the same time. Moving past the clanking piston powered pulley system that brought the valued metals to the surface, Marus guided his cart full of slag and brittle metal, the things the forges of Slivers had no need for, into line with the others to wait his turn to empty his cart’s contents into the debris sorter, a duradin amalgamation of  gears, screens, cogs, and steam powered conveyor belts that ensured even the smallest speck of valuable material was processed, 

Securing his cart on the dumping platform, Marus noticed three figures clad in green uniforms and dark aprons unloading barrels from a steam powered cog walker and stacking them off to one side. 

“Who are they?” Marus asked the operator of the debris sorter, a wiry white haired man, his face lined and dark from the sun, as he tipped his cart onto the sorter. 

“Whats that?” the other grunted?

“Those men, I’ve never seen them before. Who are they? They aren’t caked in dust like the rest of us working here”

“Oh, them. They are Tallow Men” the operator said as he spit to the side.

“What are they doing here?” Marus asked as the operator pulled a lever and his cart was rotated, spilling its contents onto a shaking metal screen. 

“Boy, don’t you know nothing?!? The House of Turn n’ Tallow supplies the grease that keeps all these cogs and gears turning. Especially here in the mines, you need a lot to keep the machines going, on account of all the dust.”

“Call them proper! 

A shadow fell over Marus as an overseer approached. He was big enough that Marus thought he must have Ogor in him somewhere.

 “House Turn is who they work for, and don't you forget it, without them you wouldn’t be pushing that cart! Now get your cart moving you’re backing up the line!”

“House Turn? Why would the old man call them Turn N’ Tallow?” Marus muttered to himself as he struggled to turn his cart around in the tight space, the other laborers grumbling at him as he bumped into their carts

The machine operator turned back to the controls, fingering an old coin hung from his neck. He felt that he’d see that young laborer again, maybe he could get a pint of cherry spark ale out of him when he did, the operator thought.