The Golden Visit
The banquet hall was a cavern of suffocating warmth, where the air hung heavy with the scent of roasted pheasant, beeswax candles, and the metallic tang of anxiety that clung to the silk lapels of the assembled elite. I stood at the periphery of the mahogany table, a silent sentinel in a world that had long since forgotten the sound of my voice, observing the intricate dance of power that...
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