The Wistful Incense
The air in the dining room hung heavy with the scent of roasted lamb and stale wine, a thick, cloying fog that seemed to cling to the velvet drapes and settle in the hollows of our laughter. We were celebrating the completion of the Great Contract, a deal that would secure the Ashworth name for another generation, and the table was a landscape of silver and crystal, gleaming under the...
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