The Wistful Voyage
The room smelled of roasted chestnuts, expensive tobacco, and the metallic tang of fear that never quite dissipated from the air in the grand halls of the Whitmore estate. You stood at the edge of the banquet table, your hands folded neatly in front of your waist, the leather of your gloves creaking softly with every slight movement of your fingers. The candles flickered in the draft coming...
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