The Wistful Witness
The air in the Grand Hall of the Sterling Exchange was thick with the scent of old paper and expensive perfume, a heavy, cloying mixture that seemed to coat the inside of your lungs. You stood at the edge of the banquet table, your hands clasped tightly behind your back, feeling the dampness of your palms seep through the fabric of your cuffs. Around you, the city’s elite clinked crystal...
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