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... a dignified hiss, sealing off the stale perfume of bureaucracy.
Count Christian Velloran stepped into the corridor with the elegance of a blade returning to its sheath, a calculated calm in every step. His suit was immaculate. His tie, a subdued navy silk. The Velloran crest on his lapel gleamed gold in the filtered light that streamed through the stained-glass panels above, casting fractured colors on polished marble.
Two aides fell into step beside him without a word. One coll ...
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