The Golden Crossing
The house smells of beeswax and old paper, a scent that has settled into the very grain of the floorboards over the decades, and you are sitting at the center of the long mahogany table, surrounded by the quiet hum of a hundred guests who have come to celebrate the preservation of your family’s legacy. The air is thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and the metallic tang of spilled wine,...
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