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The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the tall windows of Count Redwood’s manor study.
A middle-aged man with graying temples sat across from Baron Hartfield, his fingers drumming nervously against a leather-bound ledger.
Behind him stood two other men—one thin and weasel-like with ink-stained fingers, the other broad-shouldered with the calculating eyes of a merchant who’d seen both sides of every coin.
"Baron Hartfield," the middle-aged man—Steward Orvil—c ...
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