The Wistful Saga
Could a man truly be free if he knew the exact weight of his own chains? The banquet hall smelled of roasted mutton and wet wool, the air thick with the heat of a hundred bodies pressed against the high, shuttered walls of the piano nobile. Saad Swati stood at the edge of the crowd, his uniform crisp, his eyes fixed on the Mayor who sat at the head of the long table, laughing as he tore into a...
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