The Distant Whispers
The banquet hall in the old city center was a cathedral of excess. Crystal chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling painted with fading frescoes of angels, their wings spread in poses of eternal, silent judgment. Below them, the tables groaned under the weight of silver platters and gold-rimmed glasses. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of roasted pheasant, red wine, and the sharp,...
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