The Golden Harbor
The banquet hall of the Ashworth Estate was a cathedral of smoke and gaslight, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted pheasant, stale perfume, and the metallic tang of anxiety that permeates every room where power is traded like currency. Margaret sat at the edge of the mahogany table, her fingers tracing the intricate, fading gold leaf of the goblet before her, a vessel that had...
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