The Golden Downtown
The banquet hall smelled of roasted lamb and old varnish, a scent that seemed to settle into the pores of the men who sat in long, rigid rows. Captain Elias Thorne sat at the head of the table, his uniform pressed to a severity that bordered on armor, the brass buttons catching the dim light of the chandeliers above. He watched the other officers eat, their chins working rhythmically, a...
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