The Golden Mirror
The banquet hall of the Athenaeum smelled of roasted quail, stale lavender, and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood that had never been scrubbed from the parquet floor. It was a feast for the elite of the city, a glittering assembly of scholars, judges, and merchants who wore their morality like ill-fitting coats. In the center of the room, beneath a chandelier that dropped crystals like...
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