The Golden Suspect
The feast was a riot of roasted goose and blackberry tart, the air thick with the smoke of tallow candles and the heavy, cloying sweetness of spiced wine that pooled in the corners of the Great Hall of Oakhaven. We sat on the floor, the servants and the apprentices, while the masters dined at the high table, their voices rising in a cacophony of laughter and clinking silver that seemed to...
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