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The bells of Luxembourg had not yet fully fallen silent when the war reclaimed its place.
The wedding—bright, polished, and almost unreal in its perfection—faded quickly into memory for the men of importance as their motorcars rolled back through the city streets, carrying these men who had no time to dwell on such minor things. Laughter, music, and applause remained behind in the cathedral, but ahead waited maps, numbers, and the slow grind of a war that refused to end cleanly.
At the Hotel Staar, the upper floors had already been secured and converted into something far more fitting for the moment.
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