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... ll burned, the scribes still murmured over scrolls, boots still clicked against blackstone. But beneath it all lingered a wrongness, like a harp string drawn too tight.

Duke Ferdinand sat alone at the central table, flanked by unfurled maps and the sheen of morning mist seeping in through the high lattice windows. His eyes tracked a formation diagram with ruthless precision, following Luceris' latest redeployments across the eastern ridges. Red ink trailed across the parchment like blood ...

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