The Faded Frontier
The banquet hall smelled of roasted goose and wet wool, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of Thomas’s throat as he stood in the shadows of the great hall. It was a night of high celebration, the kind that belonged to legends rather than men, where the air itself seemed to hum with a low, vibrating tension that made the chandeliers sway without wind. Thomas was not a man of high...
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