The Pale Banner
The air in the Grand Hall of the St. Jude’s Municipal Assembly was thick with the scent of roasted pheasant, waxed mahogany, and the sharp, metallic tang of ambition. It was a banquet designed not for nourishment, but for display, a gladiatorial arena where the old money of the industrial district clashed with the new, aggressive wealth of the rail barons. Elias Vane sat at the far end of the...
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