The Faded Road

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2026-08-20 10:37:07 -

The Faded Road

The banquet hall of the Whitmore Industrial Commission was a cavern of gilded excess, a place where the air hung heavy with the scent of roasted pheasant, expensive perfume, and the metallic tang of ambition, and you stood at the periphery of it all, holding a glass of sherry you had not sipped in twenty minutes, watching the light catch the dust motes dancing in the beams of the crystal...

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