The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-20 10:53:58 -

The feast was a riot of silver and smoke, the air thick with the scent of roasted boar and the heavier, cloying perfume of lilies that had been forced to bloom out of season in the conservatory, creating a gilded cage of scent that seemed to press against the inside of your skull with a persistent, dull ache. You stood at the edge of the ballroom, your uniform immaculate, the brass buttons...

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