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Chapter 5: The Acclamation
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Chapter 7: The Hounds Fed
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... at split and drifted like banners of omen. The air was raw and cold, heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and boiled grain. Every soldier moved with the silent purpose that followed a storm-restless, determined, glancing at the ramparts as if expecting news or orders with every passing moment.
Inside the principia’s strategium, Constantine claimed the broad cedar bench at the head of a long table. Maps hung from the walls, marked with ink and grease from years of campaigns. The skins of nor ...
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