The Golden Scar
The banquet hall in the upper district of New Aethelgard was a cavern of suspended dust and artificial light, where the air tasted of recycled ozone and the faint, metallic sweetness of compliance, and it was here, amidst the shimmering silks of the elite and the hollow laughter of the compliant, that Silas Vane stood at the periphery of the feast, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture...
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