PREVIEW

... oasted meats, underpinned by the gentle murmur of chatter and laughter.

Richard settled into a corner booth alongside James and Trevor, while Nadia, Anne, and Oren took seats opposite. The table was worn oak, polished smooth by countless evenings like this one, its surface ringed with the marks of old tankards and forgotten stories. Even the edges bore faint carvings from patrons past—initials and stray hearts etched in moments of bravado or wistful longing. Warm lantern light flickered ...

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