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Chapter 291: The Emperor’s Court
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Chapter 293: The Zealot’s Summons
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... sty. It carried no scent of rain or life, only the fine, abrasive dust of the Mesopotamian desert and the faint, metallic tang of spilled blood. Inside Kaia’s command tent, the wind’s howling was a muted, mournful song, a constant reminder of the harsh world she was determined to master. The tent itself was a reflection of its owner: stark, functional, and utterly devoid of comfort for its own sake. Felt carpets, woven with the geometric patterns of her tribe, covered the dusty ground. Campaign ...
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