The Golden Myth
The banquet was a cacophony of clinking silver and the wet, heavy sound of food being swallowed, a suffocating wall of noise that pressed against the eardrums of Major Elias Thorne as he sat at the head of a long mahogany table that seemed to stretch into a darkness beyond the reach of the chandelier’s gaslight, which flickered with an erratic, nervous pulse that cast long, dancing shadows...
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